The 6th Quarter Quell
by District 9 Tribute
Summary: 144 tributes go in, 2 can come out. It's time for the 6th Quarter Quell. SYOT closed. Rated T because it's the Hunger Games.
1. The Twist

President Prime walked onto the balcony, smiling. This year's Quell twist was perfect. Especially after the short rebellion that happened during the last Quell. The Capitol forces shut down the districts for a third time, and now, they were going to pay with the lives of innocent children.

Being the president was great.

The voice of Head Gamemaker Gemma sounded in his ear. "President Prime, the cameras are on in five, four, three, two..."

The anthem blasted and the cameras turned to face Prime. This was the moment he'd been dreaming of: the reading of the card.

Prime pulled the card out of his pocket, and, without any speech or anything, he read it. "On the 150th anniversary, as punishment for a third rebellion, each district must offer up twelve tributes, six male, six female. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor."

Prime left the balcony. May the 6th Quarter Quell begin.

 **Alright, my first SYOT! The form is on my profile. Submit as many tributes as you like! Please note that this story will not start until I'm done with the 4th Quarter Quell and the 101st Hunger Games. But submit tributes anyways! I'm going to need a LOT.**


	2. The Victor of The 149th Games

**Elliot "Elle" Hanson, Victor of the 149th Hunger Games**

 _Running. Past the house collapsing in in itself, past the dilapidated bakery where the scorpion mutts lived, hearing the pounding of Ajax's boots against the cobblestone through my own footsteps. I hated this year's arena. No open space to run._

 _I pulled out my knife. Swerved to the right. Only two left, me and Ajax. I was so close to going back home to Ten, I could practically smell the horses and cows and grass._

 _My foot caught on an uneven cobblestone, and I tripped. Ajax was on me in seconds. His grin was unmistakable as he pulled his sword out of the sheath._

 _"Give up, Ten," he snarled, resting his blade on my cheek. I whimpered softly, and he sliced my face. "I'm going back to One alive. You're leaving this arena in a box." Another slice, this time my arm._

 _I glanced to my left. My knife lay just out of reach. My mind raced for options. Could I shove Ajax off me? No, he was too strong, an eighteen year old from One, and I was a fourteen year old from Ten. What about getting his anger going? He'd kill me even faster. Tears welled in my eyes. What was I going to do?_

 _"Don't worry," Ajax taunted, noticing my tears. "I'll try to make it as quick as possible."_

Yeah right, _I thought, then looked back at the knife. My only option. Slowly, I began to reach for it. Lucky for me, Ajax was still making his death speech._

 _"Do you have anybody back home? I do. Little sister, Twinkle. She's counting on me. And so is Ivory. She wasn't my girlfriend, but he was from home, you know?" My fingertips brush the handle. "I can't believe I let her go with Aquarius. He was dangerous. He killed my district partner, then I killed his before I killed him." My fingernail hooks on a piece of the grip that I had peeled up, and I pulled the knife into my grasp._

 _"You'll see Ivory and Aquarius and Oceania and all those people you killed soon," I said, and Ajax laughed. I ignored it. "Tell Mitch I say hello." With that, I slammed my knife into his heart._

 _He rolled off me, and whispered, "You'll regret this." His cannon sounded._

I bolted up, sweating and breathing hard. That nightmare had been plaguing me for months now, my last night in the arena. Ajax was right: I did regret killing him. I wasn't a killer. Before the reaping, I wouldn't have even touched a knife for fear of hurting somebody. Now, I was fifteen and a murderer.

Next to me, my little sister Eve stirred, then woke up. She had her own room, of course, but it scared her being alone. She was only five, after all, and gone through more than any five year old should. She watched her only sister almost die.

"Hey, Evie," I whispered, ruffling her black hair. She giggled at my nickname for her, then snuggled close. I glanced at my clock, and it was only four in the morning.

"Go back to sleep, okay?" I whispered to Eve. Eve nodded, and closed her eyes. I wished I could go back to sleep that quickly. I laid awake for about ten minutes, before deciding to work on my project. In that awful week in the Hunger Games, twenty three voices were forever silenced, eyes forever closed, hearts forever still. This project will help me remember each one of those tributes lost in my Games, and every other one until I died.

From under my bed, I pulled out a tablet—which I barely used, but you don't refuse gifts from the Capitol—and open a search bar. I typed in 'Hunger Games'. An array of numbers and images flooded the screen. The 149th Games was first on the list. The image behind the number was of Ajax breaking the neck of the little girl from Eight in the bloodbath.

I tapped on that one, then scrolled to the 'Tributes' tab and clicked on that. One by one, district by district, faces, names, ages, family, anything you wanted to know about these tributes popped up. The white glare of the screen woke Eve.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and I took out my notebook. I opened it to my last entry and began on the next tribute: Abeline the sadistic girl from Five.

"Conserving their memories," I whispered to Eve.

"What does conserving mean?" Eve asked, her squeaky voice breaking into me and staying there. Everybody was this young before. All twelve of the tributes I'll be responsible for this year were this young at one point.

"It means that even though they're dead, I'm going to remember them," I said. "All of them."

Eve thought about this for a moment, then said, "I want to help." I smiled, and gave Eve the tablet open to Abeline's profile. I scrawled out facts one my paper:

 _Name: Abeline Gray_

 _Age: 18_

 _District: Five_

 _Family: mother, father, older brother, younger brother_

 _Fate: dead_

 _Placement: 9th_

 _Cause of Death: poisoned by scorpion mutts, then stabbed by Aquarius_

"Are the Hunger Games scary?" Eve asked me after as read the cause of death to me.

"Yes, Evie, they are," I told her. "But don't worry. If you ever get picked, I'll protect you."

"I love you, Elle."

"I love you too, Eve

 **Meet last year's Victor, Elliot Hanson of District Ten. We'll see more of Elle as this story progresses. How'd you like the insight into last year's Games? How did you like Elle and her project to conserve the memories of all the dead tributes in the Games?**

 **You can still submit tributes. I had thirteen or fourteen last I checked, and three reserved spots. I made a decision that if you reserve, you have to send them in a week after you reserve. Seven days to get your tributes in to me, or your reservation is taken off (DjEkat if you can sen in your's ASAP that would be great.)**


	3. Tribute Info

**This is important regarding the tributes, so if you're planning to submit, please read this. If not, well, you still can read this but it won't be as exciting.**

 **First of all, I found out that I have a tribute that was already in another story. I'm not saying which one, but I'm sad because I really liked their character and was planning on them to go far. If you submit a duplicate tribute, they will be placed in the bloodbath, no questions asked, no hard feelings.**

 **Second, speaking of the bloodbath, I need more tributes designed for the bloodbath, particularly boys. I already have one, but I'd like more so I don't have to choose tributes to die in the bloodbath (this will happen regardless, but I'd like the number to be as small as possible).**

 **Third, even if you submit a Career, that does not mean they are safe from dying in the bloodbath (jeez, what is it with the bloodbath today?). Some Careers will die in the bloodbath, I'm sorry to say. There will be 144 tributes. Some are going to die.**

 **Fourth, if you reserve a spot, you have a week to get them in. If you take over a week, your reservation will be taken off the list. I can't have one person reserve a spot somebody else wants and just not submit their character.**

 **Fifth, there is a poll regarding if there should be a sponsoring system for this story. Go vote in it!**

 **Finally, if you could, please copy and paste the form on my profile when you want to submit a tribute. It is just easier for me if I have all of the tribute forms the same thing.**

 **And please please please no more siblings! I have quads already and twins with a stepsister. I could take maybe one more pair of siblings, but that's really it.**

 **Sorry if I sound really nit-picky here. I just would like some things done particularly. And on my other story, there is another announcement that I will update that next on June 17th because I have lots to do for school. I will still be accepting tributes from now until then, though. To see the announcement in full, please see the 4th Quarter Quell. It is the last posted chapter there.**

 **(PS, I joined a 24 Tributes/24 Authors thing so that will also take up time from me).**


	4. Sponsoring System

**Well, you guys voted to have a sponsoring system. I closed the poll officially. Thank you to the people who voted in it. Here is the sponsoring system.**

 _Ways to Get Points:_

The first tribute you submit gives you 40 points. Every other one you submit is worth 15 points. For example, if you submit three tributes, you will have 70 points. But, if your tribute is designed as a bloodbath tribute, it will add 5 extra points. So if your first tribute is designed as a bloodbath, you will receive 45 points instead of 40. Understand? Good.

Short, vague review: 10 points

Long, detailed review: 20 points

More may be added to this list, depending on what I think of.

 _Things to Buy:_

Food (PM me if you think anything else should be added to the list)

Small fruit (apple, orange, banana, mango, kiwi, anything like that): 2 points

Pack of crackers: 5 points

Pack of dried beef: 10 points

Pack of dried fruit: 10 points

Cold (but cooked) chicken breast: 20 points

Hot chicken breast: 25 points

Hot broth: 20 points

Carton of strawberries: 15 points

Carton of blueberries: 15 points

Carton of blackberries: 15 points

Carton of raspberries: 15 points

6 Capitol rolls (fine white bread): 20 points

6 District One rolls (similar to the Capitol bread, but with a dusting of edible glitter on top): 20 points

6 District Two rolls (a dense pretzel roll with salt): 20 points

6 District Three rolls (a small, square, bite-sized bread packed with nutrients): 20 points

6 District Four rolls (fish shaped, green tinted, the one from the books): 20 points

6 District Five rolls (hot, buttery garlic breadstick): 20 points

6 District Six rolls (thick, doughy circles with a drop of sleep syrup in each to calm the mind): 20 points

6 District Seven rolls (circular bread with spices baked inside and a slight smoky scent): 20 points

6 District Eight rolls (thin, brittle crackers with a drizzle of honey): 20 points

6 District Nine rolls (whole grain rolls with melted almond butter inside): 20 points

6 District Ten rolls (dense biscuits baked with walnuts inside): 20 points

6 District Eleven rolls (crescent shaped bread made from tesserae grain with a sprinkle of seeds on top): 20 points

6 District Twelve rolls (mounds of tesserae grain stuck together with butter): 20 points

Other Supplies (PM if anything else should be added)

Empty water bottle (quart size): 5 points

Filled water bottle (quart size): 15 points

10 ft length of rope: 10 points

Empty backpack: 15 points

Camouflage kit (includes types of mud, berries, and a paintbrush): 40 points

Thin, small blanket: 10 points

Thin, large blanket: 15 points

Thick, small blanket: 20 points

Thick, large blanket: 25 points

First aid kit (includes bandages, painkiller, gauze, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls and antiseptic): 50 points

Roll of bandages: 10 points

Box of 6 painkillers: 12 points

New tribute jacket (any district color): 35 points

NOTE: more will be added based on the arena. I'm not going to spoil it for you!

Weapons

6 inch knife: 15 points

long knife: 25 points

Sword: 35 points

Bow: 50 points

Quiver of 12 arrows: 20 points

Spear: 40 points

Katana: 45 points

Blowgun and 15 darts: 30 points (add 10 to make poison darts)

Slingshot: 25 points

Mace: 55 points

Axe: 60 poinys

Trident: 60 points

Pack of 12 throwing knives: 55 points

Scythe: 70 points

12 ninja stars: 20 points

Whip: 30 points

Chakram: 20 points

Machete: 60 points

Khopesh: 60 points

NOTE: I will add more as more tributes come in.

 _Sponsor Points_

66samvr: 85

Golden Moon Huntress: 100

Dreaming of Starry Skies: 40

SparkHat: 125

JessicaEmerson: 40

maddyodair: 85

Fire'sCatching: 135

i-really-hope-not: 40

Winter's Writing: 45

Jailynne: 70

EllaRoseEverdeen: 70

samanthawoods: 40

FlyingHamburgerRider: 100

Jolteon2404: 70

BabyRue11: 60

HoppsHungerfan: 45

Let me me know if I added your points wrong. This is just for tribute submitting.

 **I have all the females for D1 and D2! Ahhh! Thank you so much to everybody who submitted! I can't wait to start this story!**

 **-D9T**


	5. The Capitol Crew

_**Gemma Copper, age 36**_

 _ **Head Gamemaker**_

* * *

I had been watching the Hunger Games my whole life. Now I had my dream job—Head Gamemaker. And for the Quarter Quell. I knew I had to make this year as memorable as possible. I didn't want this to be just the year 144 tributes were sent to die, I wanted people to remember the arena, the mutts, the deaths. I wanted to go down in history.

Somebody knocked on the door to my office. "Come in," I called, my eyes still on the computer screen. The door opens with a slight creak, and I glance up to see who it is. The short lavender hair and extremely pregnant stomach gave it away as Laurella Littleman, the Master of Ceremonies.

I kept my eyes on the white glare of the computer. Laurella and I were friends—despite the fact she was twelve years younger than I was—but I always put my work first. Especially since the reapings were in a week. The Games were coming quickly, and I still had so much to do.

"Gemma? The meeting is in five minutes," Laurella said, and I groaned. The entire Games committee has meetings before the reapings just to see how far along preparations are. I think the meetings are stupid, but I know better than to voice that opinion. The last Head Gamemaker got executed for saying that the Games were wrong.

"Alright," I said, shutting down my computer. Work would have to wait.

I stood from my chair and joined Laurella in the doorway. She was nervously rubbing her stomach. She was due any day now. As I flicked off the lights and closed my office door, I remembered when I had my first child, Orpheus. I was probably just as nervous as Laurella is now.

"So, how are you, Laurella?" I asked her. She shrugged.

"I'm okay, I guess," she answered, running her fingers through her short hair. "I mean, I'm excited, but I'm kinda scared, too. I'm not ready to be a mother."

"You'll be fine," I told her. "Any ideas on names?"

"If it's a girl, Julius was thinking Angelica," Laurella said. I brushed away some Gamemakers who wanted me to see what they were working on. "If it's a boy, I was thinking Moren."

"Julius," I said with a grin, referring to the father of Laurella's unborn baby. They weren't married yet, and still didn't know when they would be. "How is he handling all this?"

Laurella laughed. "He's scared out of his mind," she said. "But he's been great. He really has."

Before I knew it, we were at the meeting room, which was on the other side of the Games Headquarters. Everybody was there already. President Prime looked up from the head of the table.

"Nice of you two to come," he said quietly.

"I was starting to feel nauseous, sir," Laurella said. "Gemma sat with me until it passed." Prime's face softened. He may have been a cruel and demanding man, but he had a soft spot for Laurella. He was also good friends with her father—the famous Jupiter Littleman—so he had known her since she was a baby.

"Alright," Prime said, gesturing to the empty chairs at the table. We both took our seats, Laurella across from me. "Let's begin."

* * *

 _ **Nathaniel Glass, age 19**_

 _ **Gamemaker Intern**_

* * *

Head Gamemaker Gemma sat next to me. She was the only one I knew here, apart from the other intern, Aurelia, who was sitting in my other side. We had gone to the same school and graduated together.

Gemma leaned over and whispered to me, pointing, "That woman with the scar on her face? She's Kallisto Alan, the head of the mutts department. During her first year, one of her creations went haywire and cut her. She almost died."

I nod politely, scribbling all this down in my notebook. Gemma points to a tall man with long gray hair. "He's Bacchus Vera. He runs the weather department."

It went on like this until I knew everybody in the room. There was Carson Wayland, who was in charge of keeping tabs on the tributes. Germany Shine, a rather pretty girl with pale orange hair who was the head of the hologram department. Hyperion Marshall, the man who controlled the cameras. Laurella Littleman, daughter of Jupiter Littleman, the master of ceremonies. Ezequiel Macen, the Games announcer.

"I hope you know who the president is," Gemma whispered, then nodded towards a cluster of people who didn't look like they were from the Capitol. "They're past victors."

I recognized Elliot Hanson, last year's winner, and the boy who won two years ago, Harris Miller, from District Two. The others are all older.

"I would like to welcome our group of victors," the president said. The victors smiled. A few waved.

I readied my pencil over my notebook as the president began questioning. After all, I was still a student ready and anxious to learn. This was going to be my life.

* * *

 _ **Laurella Littleman, age 24**_

 _ **Master of Ceremonies**_

* * *

The president questioned the group of victors for a little while, until he turned to me. That alone made my heart begin to race. I only had this job for three years, and I didn't want to say anything that would get me fired. Or killed. I had my child to think about.

"How are you planning to do the interviews with so many more tributes, Laurella?" the president asked. I let out a silent breath of relief, since I knew the answer to that question.

"I was thinking we could do Districts One through Six the day the interviews would normally be," I answered. "Districts Seven through Twelve would be the next day. It would set the start of the Games back by a day, but the only other solution would be to move the reapings up one day."

Prime nodded. "Okay, that takes care of the interviews. Kallisto, have you designed any mutations?" Kallisto stood with a folder in her hand overflowing with papers. She pulled one out.

"I have this one design I think we could use," she said cautiously. "It's more of a scare factor than a killing mutt, however it could easily be modified to kill. It's a bat—the bird—that flutters around making noise to scare the tributes. However my intern, Iolaus, _he_ designed a mosquito that after it bites a tribute, venom moves from the bloodstream to the closest vital organ." Kallisto smiled. "Ingenious, if you ask me."

I looked down the table towards where Kallisto was sitting. A green-haired young man looked a little embarrassed that his ideas were being shared with the president. Prime, however, nodded.

"Yes, I do like those," he said thoughtfully. "Just a few more things and we can wrap this up."

I think the whole room was relieved about that.

"How are we handling the tribute trains?" Prime asked, and Alejandro D'Leer, the head of Panem's Trains Department stood.

"We modified one of the older tribute trains so it has six rooms for the tributes and seven for their support staff. The tributes will have to share rooms, but only for the day. These trains are fully equipped with everything a normal train would hold, it just has more rooms." With that, Alejandro sat back down.

I rested my hands on my stomach. Baby Moren—or Angelica, we didn't want to know the gender until the baby was born—was becoming restless. It was making it rather difficult to focus on the meeting.

Ezequiel glanced at me. "You okay?" he asked, his face showing concern. I nodded, and the president began to ask another question.

"Gemma, how close to finished is the arena?" Prime asked. "And will it be big enough for all the tributes?"

Gemma stood. She tugged her scarlet dyed hair behind her ears, cleared her throat, and said, "The builders just need to a few more things for us to control from the Control Room. Like, places for the mutts to come out and devices to herd the tributes. But other than that, it's ready. And yes, the arena will fit all the tributes. It's gigantic."

The president wrote something down, then looked around the table.

"I think this covers everything," Prime said. "This meeting is over. Thank you all for coming. I think these Games will be great." He said it without emotion. It made me think that Prime didn't care whether or not 142 innocent children were going to die over the next month.

Just because I was part of the Games Committee doesn't mean that I necessarily liked the Games.

* * *

 **I know that when you guys saw this update, you were like, "Yay it's the District One reapings!" Yeah, sorry to disappoint. I want to get the 101st Games finished before I start this. But don't worry, I will get the 101st done as quickly as humanly possible so I can start this.**

 **What did you think? Do you all like my "Capitol Crew"? We may see more of them as the Games progress.**

 **Just because use I have gotten a few PMs asking about this, yes, I am continuing this story. It will be completed until the end. I wouldn't ask for so many tributes then just not write them. I personally know how frustrating that is, and I will not do that.**

 **Also, another note regarding alliances. I will try my best to accommodate with what you wrote on your tribute's form. But I will also have all the district partners ally together (for example, all the people from Five or Eight will be together). There will be smaller alliances inside of the bigger ones, and if you wrote down specific allies on your form, I will have them together.**

 **Thank you so much to everybody who has submitted tributes. I love all of them, and I can't wait for you all to meet them. Hopefully this chapter cleared some stuff up. Feel free to PM me if you have any questions. Again, thank you all so much!**

 **-D9T**


	6. District One Reaping: Females

**IT'S TIME. It's time for this to officially start.**

* * *

 ** _Seshafi Ari, age 18_**

 ** _District 1 Female_**

* * *

I hate people. Well, I don't hate people, I hate being near them. That's why I'm standing in the very corner of the eighteen year old section, trying to get as far away from everybody as possible.

The mayor and our escort, Amity, took the stage. Immediately, I straightened. If I'm going to volunteer today, I need to look good on camera.

The mayor makes the proper introductions, shows the Dark Days video, blah blah blah. All the same stuff as usual. Seriously, they can't change that video even a little bit? It's been the same for 150 years.

Amity walks to the microphone. That's when the smiling begins. It's almost time. I'm so glad that I'm getting this chance to prove myself. Different people have their different reasons for deciding to train. Mine was that my sister simply told me I couldn't because it would be too hard for me. I signed up the next day, just to prove her wrong.

And now look at me. About to volunteer for the biggest Games in the history of Panem.

"Welcome everybody, to the reaping for the 150th Annual Hunger Games!" Amity announced into the microphone, and a majority of the people in the crowd clapped. "Let's not wait any longer!" Amity walked over to the girl's reaping bowl and chose a slip. "Your first tribute in this year's Hunger Games is..." Amity unfolded the slip. "Juno Glam!"

Quickly, I made sure there was no spinach stuck in my teeth from my vegetarian breakfast this morning, then I raised my hand and shouted, "I volunteer!"

This would be a challenge, but it was one I was willing to take on. I had to prove that I could do this.

* * *

 ** _Vasilissa LeTanya, age 17_**

 ** _District 1 Female_**

* * *

I can't believe that Egyptian girl got to volunteer before me. I had only met her once before, as she didn't train at the main Academy. But still Seshafi was chosen to volunteer.

Somebody squeezed my hand. I looked to my left and into the face of my girlfriend, Crystal. She must be nervous for me, although I'm not sure why. I'm going to win. How does she not know that?

On stage, Amity is congratulating Seshafi. Mentally, I challenge Amity that I can volunteer faster than she can call out the name. Because, why not? Competitions are fun. Especially ones with lots of people.

Amity chose another slip, and I tensed to run to the stage.

"Hey, Vasilissa," Crystal whispered, and I turned to look at her. She opened her mouth, but then closed it and forced a smile. "Give 'em hell out there." I grinned.

"Your second tribute for the Sixth Quarter Quell is," Amity said, unfolding the slip. But I was faster.

"I volunteer!" I yelled, faking a sob. I'm sure the Capitol will be puzzling over that for weeks. It was unexpected.

I like being unexpected.

I ran to the stage, feeling the rush of adrenaline that I love. Sure, winning the Games would be great, but the attention would be a little much. I may have been one of the six chosen volunteers, but I also want to feel the thrill of being in the arena.

Because adrenaline rushes feel great.

* * *

 ** _Juliette Volontario, age 17_**

 ** _District 1 Female_**

* * *

As I watched Vasilissa run to the stage, a rock of nervousness settled in my stomach. I'm next. I'm supposed to volunteer next. I want to, though. I want to show the people who thought I couldn't do this that I can. I'm not spiteful, I just don't talk very much, so I must seem weak to everybody else.

"District One, your second tribute is Vasilissa LeTanya!" Amity announced, and Vasilissa grinned. I clapped quietly for her.

"And now," Amity said. "Your third tribute." She chose a slip, and crossed back to the microphone. I took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled slowly. "The third female in the Sixth Quarter Quell is Miss Valentina Silver!"

A wail rose up from the back of the reaping pen. A twelve year old. And so I said, "I volunteer."

The girl reached the stage, sobbing. Amity looked confused. She must not have heard me. I raised my hand and said louder, "I volunteer!"

As I made my way through my age section and into the main aisle, somebody shouted, "Hey, it's the Playboy's Daughter!" I clenched my fists, trying not to get mad. When I was little, my birth mother died, and my dad had spent a lot of time dating other women, but they only got with him because of his wealth and status. They ended up leaving when they found out I existed. One day, I went to the Academy and everybody was calling me the Playboy's Daughter. I have no clue who told everybody about my dad.

I climbed up the steps of the stage easily, joining Seshafi and Vasilissa. Amity gave me the microphone.

"What's your name, my dear?" she asked.

I looked out into the crowd of people, and wanted to hide. Quietly, I said into the microphone, "Juliette Volontario." And then I took my spot next to Seshafi and Vasilissa, a tribute in the 150th Hunger Games.

* * *

 ** _Venus Jett, age 18_**

 ** _District 1 Female_**

* * *

I couldn't help but look back to the fifteen year old section, where Lacie should have been standing. She should be there, not murdered when she was only four. Most people have no idea that I have this soft side to me, because I am the leader of the biggest, baddest gang this district has ever seen. To lead a gang, you need to strong, cruel, you need to show no mercy or risk being kicked out.

So I got a reputation as a cruel leader, and I suppose I really am a cruel person. Would you be a softie if you saw your sister and parents murdered when you were only seven? Didn't think so.

Amity was back at the girl's reaping ball, taking her sweet time choosing a name. _Would you hurry up_? I thought, annoyed. Capitol people think that the world revolved around them, that they could just do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Well, news flash! The world doesn't revolve around you, and not everything is handed to you on a silver platter. I learned that the hard way.

"The fourth female tribute representing District One is," Amity said, unfolding the paper. "Raquelle Darin!"

"I volunteer!" I shouted, but somebody else had said it, too. I narrowed my eyes, and spotted somebody running for the aisle, and when I saw their face, my blood boiled. Sabrina Honour, the girl I hated more than anything else. She was about to take my spot as a tribute. "Oh, no you don't," I muttered, and took off, running through my section and I tackled Sabrina, and quickly got her into a choke hold.

"If you say this," I whispered in her ear. "I will let you go. Say _Venus Jett is the volunteer, not me._ " Sabrina tried to fight me, but I just tightened my grip, and yelled at her, "Say it!"

Finally, she choked out, "Venus Jett is the volunteer, not me." I released her, and strode up the steps.

That's how I deal with things in my way. The other tributes better look out for me.

* * *

 _ **Topaz Bautista, age 15**_

 _ **District 1 Female**_

* * *

Why the Academy chose me as one of the volunteers, I'll never figure out. I hate it there, but my parents wanted me to train, so I did. And somehow, I was chosen to volunteer. Don't ask me.

I never wanted to be a tribute. The Hunger Games is a terrible, awful competition that kills innocent children, and now I'm forced to play in one with six times the normal amount of players. In One, we take the Games with pride. Look at what just happened with Venus and that other girl. Pride can be a good thing, but too much can get you killed. Or strangled, in that case.

On stage, Amity was congratulating Venus, the fourth volunteer so far. I looked over to the boy's section, and saw my older brother Garnet looking back at me. I know he's upset that he isn't volunteering this year, but his only sister is. He gave me a thumbs up, then pointed to the stage. Amity was back at the microphone.

"Well, this is very exciting. Four volunteers! Let's see if we will have another!" Amity said, then picked another name. She unfolded the paper, and called out the name, "Jade Luxurious!"

I stiffened. I knew Jade. She was Garnet's girlfriend, and a friend of mine. But she didn't train. Her family didn't have enough money to send her to the Academy. I knew she wouldn't last a day out in that arena.

As much as I just wanted to stay here, to live out the rest of my life in District One, I knew I couldn't let Jade into that arena. Garnet would be crushed, and I couldn't see my brother like that. So, with my heart breaking, I raised my hand and yelled, "I volunteer!"

* * *

 _ **Ferris List, age 16**_

 _ **District 1 Female**_

* * *

I ran my fingers through my purple dyed hair as the fifteen year old girl volunteered. Stupid. She wasn't going to survive. Not with all of these extra tributes. Even in a normal year, she would be lucky if she survived the bloodbath.

I was getting a little tired of Amity and her squeaky voice. This reaping was taking forever. And we still had the boys left. Couldn't Amity just ask for the volunteers? She must have known that District One had designated volunteers for these Games. So why keep drawing names? It was stupid. There was always a volunteer...

"The final female is Ferris List!" Amity said, and I looked up, immediately angry. Did she just say _my_ name? I guess I would do okay in the Games - after all, my parents disowned me a while back ever since I told them I was bisexual, and I had been living on the streets ever since - but I wasn't a Career. Sure, I had trained a little was I was younger, but I hadn't stepped foot in the Academy in years.

There was going to be a volunteer. There always was.

But not this time.

When nobody stepped forward, I felt my face get bright red from anger as I turned and slammed everybody out of my way as I made my way to the center aisle. This wasn't right. There was always a volunteer. _Why_ was nobody stepping forward?

Thoroughly pissed off, I stomped up the steps, and joined the five other girls. Amity asked for volunteers, but got no response. I crossed my arms, and huffed out a breath as Amity moved on to the boys.

This wasn't going to be fun.

* * *

 **AHHHHH I actually started this! It took long enough, huh? So, here are the female tributes for District One! Thank you to:**

 **SparkALeah for Seshafi,**

 **Golden Moon Huntress for Vasilissa,**

 **66samvr for Juliette,**

 **The Fire Blossom for Venus,**

 **and Dreaming of Starry Skies for Ferris**

 **(Topaz is my sister's tribute, and she doesn't have an account). I hope I did them all justice! With this being my first SYOT, please give me some feedback. If I completely butchered your character's personality, let me know! Reviews are appreciated, so review away! Let me know what you thought of these tributes, what I can do to make my writing better, anything you want to tell me. Next chapter we'll be seeing the males for District One. Until next time!**

 **-D9T**


	7. District One Reaping: Males

**_Majesty Winterhaze, age 18_**

 ** _District 1 Male_**

* * *

As Amity moved on to the boy's reaping bowl, I can hardly keep my eyes open despite my excitement. Maybe partying all last night wasn't the best idea in the world, but man, did I have fun. Lots of music, lots of alcohol, lots of girls. Best of all, lots of girls willing to get in bed with me. What can I say? I'm just great, despite my current hangover.

My eyes sought out my mother, the famed Silk-May Winterhaze, victor of the 121st Hunger Games. Being her son will make me popular with the audience, although I wouldn't need the help. Then I look for Esmeralda Silver, my current girlfriend. She's such a ditz. She thinks that we'll last forever, but that obviously isn't true. Dating around is fun. Actually settling down and starting a relationship? Not so much.

Both of my brothers, Xavier and Malachi, were both engaged when they were my age. I don't understand why they would want to be committed to anyone when there's a whole district of beautiful girls to sleep with and then break their hearts. It's the best fun ever. But my brothers and I don't always see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. Take the Games for example. My father, brothers and my older sister, Trinity, hate them with a burning passion, while my mother, younger sister, Charity, and I worship them, like a good District One citizen should.

"Here we are," Amity said on stage, and I snapped back to attention. "The first male tribute for District One is Phoenix Alabastor!"

I ran my fingers through my hair once, then raised my hand and yelled, "I volunteer!"

As I walked up to the stage, I wondered which one of my fellow female competitors would want to spend some quality time with me before we went into the Games. Topaz is too young despite being knockout gorgeous. Juliette is too shy for me, and Vasilissa's homosexual. Venus and Seshafi might, and I have no clue about Ferris.

This is what life is about. The thrill in uncertainty.

* * *

 _ **Garnet Diamond, age 16**_

 _ **District 1 Male**_

* * *

Hard work pays off. I'm the proof. I'm only sixteen, yet I worked my butt off in the Academy and was chosen to volunteer. And if I was chosen, then I _must_ be the best. I'm going to win.

I bounced on the balls of my feet, wanting to move again. Dancers can never stand still for long. Amity really needs to hurry up and choose this slip so I can volunteer. I need to get out of this pen. Glory is awaiting me.

Amity finally chose a slip of paper, and made her way back to the microphone. I stared at the stage, looking at the other tributes already up there. I would be with them soon.

I glanced over to the girl's section, and saw my dancing partner, Pearl. She may be a year younger than me, but she's a good dancer, and has a good sense of humor that can always make me laugh. I may even say that we're closer than me and some of my male friends.

"Your second male tribute is Magnus Wiruss!" Amity announced.

I almost laughed. I knew that boy's brother. He was one of the worst students the Academy, and I was tempted to let him in the Games, but I wanted that spot. So I shoved my way into the aisle and shouted, "I volunteer!"

I was going into the Hunger Games, and I would return a victor.

* * *

 _ **Alexios Rhodes, age 17**_

 _ **District 1 Male**_

* * *

Amity quickly chose another slip, probably wanting to get the reaping done with. I don't blame her, really. Out of all twelve of these tributes, ten were guaranteed not to return. I guess I just didn't like that.

Something touched my back. I whirled around, my fist ready to smash into whatever it was. There was only a boy from the section behind me who shrunk way when he saw my fist raised.

"Sorry!" He yelped. "I didn't mean to!" I spun back around slowly, feeling awful. But it wasn't my fault that I was so jumpy around people.

My birth family was originally from District Nine, but my parents were part of a rebel force planning, once again, to overthrow the Capitol. But they were caught, and President Prime had them tortured. They're probably dead now, without even a final goodbye to their only son. I was then shipped to District One, where I lived on the streets until the Rhodes family took me in. I don't talk to them very much, and they don't pry for details about my other life, which is nice. I don't enjoy talking about it.

"Your third male tribute is Alexios Rhodes!" Amity announced, and my head whipped up. That was unexpected. I wiped my face clean of emotion, trying to remember if I was chosen to volunteer or not. I don't think I was. But there are no volunteers, so I must have been.

I was a tribute in the Sixth Quarter Quell.

* * *

 ** _Sampson Rhodes, age 17_**

 ** _District 1 Male_**

* * *

I stood there, shocked, as Alexios took the stage. Where was the volunteer? Alexios wasn't supposed to be a tribute! I was supposed to go into the arena this year, not him. I frantically looked around for the third volunteer, Zircon, but he had his head down. As much as I wanted to save my brother, you don't take somebody else's tribute spot. It was forbidden in the Academy.

"Are there any volunteers?" Amity asked. Nobody moved, everybody looking at Zircon, who still didn't move. Alright, fine, Zircon. Don't volunteer. But when Alexios and I come home together, I'm going to have some words with him.

"Alright, and now for your fourth male tribute," Amity said walking to the boy's reaping bowl again. I grasped the rope next to the aisle, getting ready to fling it aside.

 _I'm coming, Alexios. You're not doing this alone._

"Mercury Castle!" Amity announced, and somebody in the girl's section screamed - Mercury's sister probably.

I threw the rope aside, stepped into the aisle, and shouted, "I volunteer!" I ran to the stage, and climbed the steps. Amity hustled over to me.

"And what is your name?" Amity asked.

"Sampson Rhodes," I said with a sarcastic smirk. I may be going into a death match, but I needed sponsors, and I had to appeal to the audience.

Because I needed to win. With my brother.

* * *

 ** _Adonis Stone, age 18_**

 ** _District 1 Male_**

* * *

I didn't care whether or not I was one of the last volunteers for District One, I was going to lead the Career pack. Being in charge was how I was going to survive. It was as simple as that. And if somebody refused me, they would be sorry later.

But how could I be sure that I was going to win? I wasn't. If the trainers at the Academy had chosen me so far down in the order of volunteers, then I must not be as good as I thought I was. Did the trainers select me just to die? I hope not. Because I _could_ win. I've been training ever since I was four, for fourteen years now. I must be one of the best.

"My, my," Amity said, clapping her hands together. "Isn't this exciting! So many volunteers! Let's see if we will have another!" I tensed, getting ready to save this poor little kid from the Games.

"The fifth male tribute is," Amity said, letting the suspense hang in the air before saying, "Glisten Tinsel!"

I smiled an almost vicious smile. I knew Glisten. We played baseball together, and I absolutely hated him, and he hated me right back. It wasn't the best relationship in the world - neither of us were very kind - and I would have let him into the arena, but I want the fame that comes with becoming a tribute, and then, a victor.

I raised my hand and shouted, "I volunteer!"

* * *

 _ **Felix Wiruss, age 15**_

 _ **District 1 Male**_

* * *

I looked at all eleven of the tributes on stage already, Topaz one of them. I knew her from school, but I never knew she would be a volunteer. I had seen her around the Academy a few times, too, when I wasn't being reprimanded for how terrible I was.

And it's true. I'm one of the worst students in the Academy. And even if I could stand up for myself, there would be no denial. I know I'm terrible. I'm the laughingstock of the Academy and the district.

A boy next to me is shaking in complete terror. He keeps furiously wiping his face, like he's crying. I looked at him and whispered, "Are you okay?"

The boy looks at me, surprised, then whispered back, "No. I'm scared I'm gonna be reaped."

"Don't worry about it," I said back. "There are always volunteers."

"There wasn't one when that third boy was chosen," the boy shot back.

"He was probably one of the volunteers," I said. The boy nodded, and smiled at me.

"Thanks," he said. I smiled, and turned back to the stage, where Amity was at the microphone, a piece of paper in hand.

"And here is that final tribute for the Sixth Quarter Quell!" Amity called out. She unfolded the paper, and announced the name, "Felix Wiruss!"

Oh no. I wanted to stop existing in that moment. I tried to on sale my emotions as I stepped out of my section, hoping against hope that somebody would volunteer for me.

But I knew it was hopeless. Nobody, not even my brother, would volunteer in my place. I was going into the Games.

* * *

 **And there are the males for District One! Thank you to:**

 **maddyodair for Majesty,**

 **BabyRue11 for Garnet, Adonis, and Felix,**

 **and gameshumgerplayer for Alexios and Sampson!**

 **Also, one small thing I forgot to mention last chapter. I feel like you guys know me as a writer (if you've followed my other stories), but you have no clue what I'm like as a person. So I'm going to leave song suggestions at the end of every chapter to give you some insight to who I am as a person. This chapter's song is King of my Heart by Taylor Swift (for those of you followed 24 More you already know I am a HUGE Taylor Swift fan, so be expecting to see a lot of her songs in here.)**

 **That aside, what did you think of this chapter. I tried to take your suggestions into consideration as I was writing so hopefully this chapter is a little better than the last one. I'll be seeing you all next time in District Two to introduce you to their females.**

 **Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all! Until next time!**

 **-D9T**


	8. District Two Reaping: Females

**_Kira Bronze, age 16_**

 ** _District 2 Female_**

* * *

First volunteer for District Two. After all those years training, I finally came out on top in the Academy. Of course, with lots of skill, sweat, threats, and an "accidental" broken wrist to my biggest competition, I finally won the spot. I could hardly keep myself from grinning.

The district escort, Themis, took the stage, along with the mayor. I cringed away from Themis's bright pink getup. It was frilly and large and just plain terrible. I couldn't express my disgust with it though. The Capitol needed to like me.

As the Dark Days video was being shown, I noticed another girl in my section looking at me kind of funny. I turned to look at her, ready to chew her face off, when she said, "You're one of the volunteers, right?"

"You know it," I said, starting to smile. "I guess I'm better than you are at training."

"I guess so," the girl said, completely immune to my usual tactics on putting people down. "I think I'll wait until I'm eighteen to volunteer."

"When I come home a victor," I whispered softly, getting close to her face. "I'll find a way, any way, to make sure you never get to volunteer. You don't want to mess with me." The girl looked surprised, and tears welled in her eyes. If she wanted me to feel sorry for her, it wasn't going to work. Her emotions were her problem now, not mine.

Themis walked to the microphone, and gave the usual introduction. "I am so excited to be back here for another year. Now lets not wait any longer." Themis skipped to the girl's reaping bowl, and picked six slips, all at the same time. She skipped back, and unfolded the first paper.

"The first female tribute is Theodora F—" Themis started, but I beat her to it.

"I volunteer!" I yelled, and shoved a girl out of my way. I had my drive to win, and I expected to come home as a victor.

* * *

 _ **Aeliana Macedon, age 18**_

 _ **District 2 Female**_

* * *

As I watched Kira run up to the stage, I couldn't help but wish that she held out until next year to volunteer. With both Alexios, my twin brother, and I going into the Games, my family doesn't need Kira going to, despite my differences with my half-sister. She wasn't my biggest fan, to put it delicately.

Themis rushed over to Kira, who just reached the stage. "A volunteer!" Themis exclaimed, faking surprise. District Two has volunteers every year. She must know that. "What is your name, dear?"

"Kira Bronze," Kira answered, her eyes finding me in the crowd and grinning viciously at me. For the past week, she had been spiting me that she got to volunteer before me. I didn't mind much. Not much bothers me, not even my vicious half-sister's ruthless bullying.

The secret? Be level headed. Be calm.

Themis was at the microphone again, holding another slip. "The second female tribute is Tia Stone!"

Immediately, I looked over to the boy's section to look for Alexios. Tia was one of his closest friends; he considered her a little sister to him. He looked panicked, and I saw Tia, tiny at thirteen, walk past me, and to the stage.

"Somebody do something!" Alexios yelled, panicked. He locked eyes with me. "Aeliana, please!"

Knowing I couldn't see my brother watch Tia in the Games, I stepped into the aisle, and shouted confidently, "I volunteer!" Tia scurried back to her section, and I walked to the stage. One of the Peacekeepers whispered to me on my way, "Good luck, Aeliana." I smiled. I had recently joined the Peacekeeper Training Force, and that, combined with my training in the Academy, would do me well in the Games.

I was ready.

* * *

 _ **Levanna Moonbeam, age 17**_

 _ **District 2 Female**_

* * *

Quickly, Themis unfolded another piece of paper. I stood, smug and confident, watching her. I'm next. I'm supposed to volunteer for this poor girl whose name is on this paper. And I can win these Games. Basically, the Games are about manipulating the sponsors to buy _you_ things and nobody else.

I have experience in manipulation, and so much more.

On stage, Kira was glaring at Aeliana, who was just standing there stoically. Now there was a relationship that I would just tweak a little to get my way. All that I needed was a small bit of distaste on one side of a relationship and it was easy. Kira's personality would make my job so much easier if I had to do anything.

"The third female tribute in the Sixth Quarter Quell is," Themis said, pausing for dramatic effect. "Bellona Calvin!"

I let the Peacekeepers walk to the fourteen year old section, and pull the sobbing Bellona from the group. Nothing like letting fear settle into somebody before you save their life.

I stepped into the aisle, and said sweetly, "I volunteer!" I ushered the small girl back to her section, and walked up to the stage. When I passed the eighteen year olds, I heard them whispering among themselves.

"Isn't that Zanaya McAndrews?"

"She's supposed to be dead!"

I just grinned to myself. A few years ago, I faked my death and hid in the district as Zanaya McAndrews. Some people probably still believed that I was Zanaya.

But I'm not. I'm Levanna Moonbeam, future victor of the Sixth Quarter Quell.

* * *

 ** _Charlotte Axinburg, age 18_**

 ** _District 2 Female_**

* * *

I could still hear the reaped girl sobbing behind me. She must not attend the Academy. And she probably was a poor girl, terrified of everything that came at her. That may sound cold, but hey, I called them as I saw them.

Themis lifted another slip in the air, and unfolded it. I bounced up and down a little, getting ready to volunteer, but my left leg buckled, and I just barely straightened out before I hit the ground. I cursed under my breath, and rubbed my knee. A few years ago I dislocated it during my dance lessons, causing me to quit dance. It never quite healed correctly.

"The fourth female tribute representing District Two is," Themis said, squinting at the paper. "Emilia Spangle."

Seriousness took over, with a little jealousy, too. This Emilia girl... she probably had a _real_ family with _real_ siblings. I was grateful for my adoptive parents, Sean and Bobby, and their other two daughters, Yasmin and Agatha - of course I was - but sometimes I wished that I knew my birth parents.

"I volunteer!" I shouted, walking briskly through the horde of girls in my section, glaring at any who dared to look at me. But I gave my friend Vianney a warm smile when I passed her. Anybody who deserved kindness would get it, in my eyes, and everybody else would have to deal with it.

My way or the highway, that was how I rolled.

* * *

 _ **Evelyn Thaw, age 15**_

 _ **District 2 Female**_

* * *

All of the other girls surrounding me were leaning away from me, leaving me in the center of a circle. I know why, and I don't really blame them. One of them whispered to her friend, "She's such a creep." I just widened the twisted grin on my face. Maybe I was a creep, but oh, well.

Hearing the terrified whimpers of the girls in the fourteen year old section reminded me of the agonized screams of my mother two years ago as I straddled her around the waist and hacked her to pieces. She was stupid, really - first she sold herself to one of the Peacekeepers when she was eighteen, then she never took the warning signs of my twisted nature: the injured animals that I brought in every day to kill in my bedroom, everyday increasing in size, until the day when there was a dead cow in our backyard. I had killed countless animals, but never a human until I murdered my mother when I was thirteen. After I did her, I killed my two little brothers, Matthew and Mason, then my little sister, Iris, before setting my old house on fire.

I've never been the same since. Bloody hands, a sharp knife, and pained screams was all I needed to survive.

Themis held up the fifth piece of paper. I tensed, getting ready to run to the stage. I wasn't a trained Career, but I wanted in on these Games. A chance to legally kill people? Count me in!

"The fifth female is Ingrid Garner!" Themis announced. I shoved through the crowd, everybody backing way from me, all the while proclaiming myself as a tribute.

As I walked past all of the other age groups, I looked into the faces of some of the other people, digging up all of the information I could about them. Bailey Vinti was cheating on her boyfriend. Justin Harmon's little sister was sick and dying. Carson Wales was the mayor's son, and was dangerously close to flunking out of school.

Knowledge was power. You just had to know how to use it.

* * *

 _ **Totsuki "Celestial" Shimada, age 16**_

 _ **District 2 Female**_

* * *

Only one more name to go. Oh, well. I always had next year to be a tribute. My only chance was that I was reaped and nobody volunteered...

"Totsuki Shimada, our final female tribute!" Themis said. I perked up immediately.

"Nobody move!" I screamed. "Don't volunteer!"

I began to move through the crowd of girls. One of them grabbed my arm, and pulled me to face her. "Don't be stupid, Celestial," she warned. I yanked my arm away from her, and discreetly kneed her in the stomach. I knew what I was doing. I was supposed the go into the Games. I didn't need some random girl telling me not to!

But then it happens. A girl from the seventeen year old stepped into the aisle, her hand raised to volunteer. In my mind, I quickly conjured up a plan to make sure that _I_ go into the arena, not this girl. I ran up to her, and kicked her in the back of the knee. She crumpled, and I wrapped my forearm around her throat. When I started to squeeze, I was cautious. I just wanted her to pass out, not die. Using just the right amount of pressure, I choked the girl until she fell, limp, from my arms. Then I continued to walk to the stage.

I climbed the steps with ease, thinking of other ways I could have stopped the girl still laying in the aisle. I could have gagged her with my scarf, gotten inside of her mind and made her think that she shouldn't be volunteering. It would have been easy, and hilarious. She was the last volunteer, after all. Almost _too_ easy. And isn't getting inside people's minds so fun?

I snatched the microphone right from Themis's hands. "My name is Celestial," I said, staring into one of the cameras. "Not Totsuki." I handed the microphone back to Themis, and stood with the five other girls, a tribute at last.

* * *

 **And there are the first tributes for District Two! Thank you to:**

 **Golden Moon Huntress for Kira and Aeliana,**

 **Fire'sCatching for Levanna and Charlotte,**

 **maddyodair for Evelyn,**

 **and i-really-hope-not for Celestial.**

 **I had a lot of fun writing all six of these tributes, so thank you to all of their submitters! Today's song is Galway Girl by Ed Sheeran.**

 **Be sure to review! Which tribute so far is your favorite? Least favorite? I'm working on adding up everybody's sponsor points. When I finish, I'll post them on my profile, underneath the tribute list. See you next time, with the males for District Two.**


	9. District Two Reaping: Males

**_Fenrir Lupitus, age 18_**

 ** _District 2 Male_**

* * *

Careers are supposed to be strong and lethal, stoic and confident. None of the girls on the stage right now a true Careers, expect for maybe Aeliana. It's been too long since a real Career had won the Games; four long years to be exact. Last year it was that underdog squirt from Ten, the year before that a boy from Five, before that a boy from Twelve of all places, and before that a girl from Seven. The last person from a Career district to win was Dorothea Vanguard from Four. I mean, Four! They're barely even Careers.

I stood, my hands behind my back, as Themis took six slips from the boy's reaping bowl. The first name called was the boy I was supposed to replace in the Games. I remembered how thankful I was when I turned twelve to be living in District Two. Nobody who was reaped went into the arena because there were always volunteers. Well, for the last boy reaped this year, there weren't. The Academy only chose five boys for this year because at the most, ten people from the district would die this year. No sense in wasting perfectly good talent who could win next year.

Themis unfolded the paper, looking rather bored. She must be bored, since she has to pull twelve names, just to have people volunteer. For this Quell, it would probably be more exciting to escort an outer district because of the reactions from the soon-to-be tributes. At least, it would be better than watching twelve - or rather, ten - volunteers step forward.

"The first male tribute is Jax Vinti!" Themis exclaimed, and a wail rose from the back of the group. A younger boy.

As calmly as possible, I walked into the aisle, and said stoically, "I volunteer as tribute."

A true Career I was. Time to bring home another victory for Two.

* * *

 _ **Ryker Ashlar, age 18**_

 _ **District 2 Male**_

* * *

I watched Fenrir climb the steps of the stage, and I stiffened. Next is my turn to volunteer. Not for the first time, I wondered what my friend Medrol was thinking before he stepped forward to volunteer three years ago. We had been best friends since forever, so seeing him fight until the final three of his Games had been both saddening and exciting for me. I had allowed myself to think that, at only fifteen, Medrol could come back.

Of course, I was wrong. Later that day, his last ally, the One girl, betrayed him, sending a spear through his back. Third place was a good placement, but not good enough to return as a victor.

Now, as I stood watching Themis unfold a second slip, I couldn't help but wonder if the same thing would happen to me. It couldn't. I had to survive, both for my district, and for Medrol.

There was no time to waste. Time to get serious.

"The second male tribute is Nero Montgomery!" Themis announced.

I looked back, and saw the thirteen year old section parting around a boy with an absolutely terrified expression. Thirteen. That's too young to be participating in these Games. The fact that, in a week or so, I would have to kill young children to return to Two, left me with a hollow feeling inside. It killed me.

Stepping into the aisle for my duty, I yelled, "I volunteer!"

* * *

 _ **Alexios Macedon, age 18**_

 _ **District 2 Male**_

* * *

As awful as going into the arena with my twin sister would be, I needed to show everybody who doubted me that I could do this. This was going to be the biggest Hunger Games in the history of Panem, and just the fact that I was chosen to compete was an honor.

And besides, this whole idea was the biggest task that I had ever been handed in my life. I wasn't going to back down now. No way.

I locked eyes with Aeliana on stage. I knew she was going to volunteer anyways, but I felt like I forced her into this mess, calling her out and making her volunteer for Tia. But I knew that I wouldn't be able to see bubbly little Tia in the arena. That girl was like a little sister I never had. My family had Kira as my younger sister. Quite the difference there.

The next name called was "Logan Lupitus!" Based on the last name and the way Fenrir's face paled on stage made me guess that they were brothers. I raised my hand, and, trying to look as cocky and confident as possible, I volunteered in the place of that other boy.

I ran to the stage and mounted the steps. When I passed Aeliana to take my spot, I squeezed her wrist, and she glanced back at me, a slight smile on her face. She may have been the older twin, but I would protect her with my life in that arena.

I looked out into the crowd, and caught side of my mother, who was shaking her head disappointedly. She never approved of Aeliana and I training in the Academy. She constantly reminded us that we would fail, just like our father, who died in the 132nd Games.

But we wouldn't. Kira may die in that arena, but my sister and I would make it out alive and prove our mother wrong.

* * *

 _ **Mason Albie, age 16**_

 _ **District 2 Male**_

* * *

The tension in my body was driving me insane. I felt like a coiled spring, with way too much bunched up energy wanting to escape. All I wanted to do was run out into that aisle and volunteer myself as the next tribute, but I had to wait until Themis at least _unfolded_ the paper.

A few kids near me were looking at me weirdly, probably because I was turned towards the end of the section, in the direction that would make me a tribute. I just glared at them, and hissed, "What are you lookin' at?" Call me mean, call me anything you want. It worked. They looked away, and I thought I saw one person rolling their eyes at me.

They had no idea. How much the Capitol and it's rule meant to me. A good District Two citizen should worship the Capitol and its ways, despite our current lack of victors. The last time a tribute from Two won was the 141th Games, and she was a wreck when she came back. Hardly even worthy of the title of a victor.

Themis selected another one of her pre-chosen slips, and called out, "Justin H—." I was faster. I shoved everybody else out of my way, screaming, "I volunteer! I volunteer!" I sprinted towards the stage and aggressively climbed the steps, almost tripping because of my hurry. I yanked the microphone straight from Themis's hands and said into it, breathing hard, "My name is Mason Albie."

And when I took my spot next to the other boys, I knew that this was my destiny all along.

* * *

 _ **Brutte Dowland, age 18**_

 _ **District 2 Male**_

* * *

The last volunteer was always forgotten. Not quite the best, but seen as the worst in the district. I wasn't going to be that person. Everybody was going to know who I was, just from the reaping. _That_ I could be sure of.

I looked over to the girl's section, and caught one girl staring at me. I recognized her as Valerie Huntley, a girl I had dated back when we were...fourteen? Fifteen? I can't remember, but I do know that she was one of the many girls that I had gotten pregnant. She flipped me off, and looked back towards that stage.

I did, too, and Themis was getting ready to read the next name. "Brighton Phlegthon!" I ran forward, into the aisle.

"I volunteer!" I said, relishing in the idea that all eyes in the district were on me. I ran to the stage, and "accidently" tripped going up the stairs. Themis rushed over to me.

"Oh, my, are you alright dear?" she asked, her face concerned. I fought away a smile.

"Yes, I'm fine," I responded.

"Well good thing," Themis said. "We can't have one of our future tributes hurting themselves before they get in the arena! What is your name?"

I introduced myself as Brutte Dowland, and stood beside the other tributes. Only one more name to go, and then our goodbyes, then off to the Capitol. I could hardly wait.

* * *

 _ **Daniel Rodgers, age 14**_

 _ **District 2 Male**_

* * *

One more name to go. I felt terrible for whoever's name was on this last slip, because all of the volunteers had gone already. Even though I was trained a little, I was nervous that it would be me. Who wouldn't be nervous to be reaped this year? The Games would have six times the normal amount of tributes, and that meant the odds of surviving would be even less than normal.

Despite my nervousness, I was bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet. The Hunger Games really _were_ a great thing, even though District Two hadn't won in years. I thought that was one of the reasons why my dad decided to become a trainer in the Academy. The Academy was great, too. It helped kids prepare for the Games, and even sometimes win! I knew most of the kids on stage, and I liked a few of them. Alexios was always nice to me. I hoped that he could win.

Themis was back at the microphone, ready to read the next name. I took a deep breath, telling myself that I was safe, I was going to be fine, it wasn't me.

"The last tribute is Daniel Rodgers!" Themis announced. I instinctively looked around for the volunteer before remembering, queasily, that they had all gone already. Fear began to prickle my stomach as I stepped through my section and into the main aisle.

 _Please_ , I thought. _Somebody volunteer. Anybody._

Nobody did. I was on my own.

When I mounted the steps, Themis put her hands on my shoulders, and asked for volunteers. The square was completely silent. Nobody moved, and I bit my lip. I had been planning to volunteer for the Games when I was older. I wasn't ready to go now! I didn't want to die!

Seemed like I didn't have much of a choice, though.

* * *

 **Wow, I'm really getting these chapters out fast! Don't expect updates this fast in the future. I just don't have much to do over break (I'm going back to school Tuesday *sobs*). Thanks to:**

 **HoppsHungerfan for Fenrir,**

 **Jolton2404 for Ryker and Daniel,**

 **Golden Moon Huntress for Alexios,**

 **and BabyRue11 for Mason and Brutte.**

 **I hope I did them all justice! I feel like I struggled a little writing Ryker, so sorry to Jolteon2404 if I completely messed up his character.**

 **Still working on adding sponsor points. I didn't realize how many people are participating in this SYOT until I started doing that. I'm about halfway done, though. Today's song is Levels by Nick Jonas (I'm listening to it right now as I'm writing this).**

 **What did you think? Next time we're taking a break from the Careers, and jumping over to District Three. I may, I just might, have that chapter out tomorrow because I'm feeling really motivated to write right now. So until then!**


	10. District Three Reaping: Females

**_Eve_** ** _Roxlinthe, age 12_**

 ** _District 3 Female_**

* * *

I grinned at Zil when the mayor, the escort, Pepin, and Three's victors took the stage. We were going to volunteer this year, together, just for a chance to legally kill. And to get our brother, Sullivan. Weeks ago, we had made sure that Sullivan was going into the arena with us by signing up for hundreds of tesserae in his name, putting his name in the drawing thousands of times. Sometimes, even I was amazed at our genius.

I felt hands on my back. I turned, annoyed, and saw our mother and father standing there, looking nervous. "I'm sure you girls will be fine," our mother whispered. "Don't worry about it." Zil nodded, and I followed her lead. Of course, they don't know about our plan to volunteer. They don't know about most of the things that Zil and I do, our "experiments" on small animals in the District Three laboratories. My personal favorite of ours was when we attached rabbit ears and baby fox feet to a frog.

Sometimes science was just so fun.

Pepin took the microphone. I smirked at Zil, knowing that she was thinking the same thing I was about Pepin's ridiculous neon colored suit.

"Happy Hunger Games!" he said. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Not wanting to waste any more time, Pepin zipped to the girl's reaping bowl and pulled a slip. "May I please have on stage Miss Felicia Gadge!"

I ran forward, and, cackling evilly, I screamed, "I volunteer!" The Felicia girl didn't have time to leave her group, so I didn't know who I was saving.

But it didn't matter. For these Games, Zil and I had only two goals in mind: slaughter everybody and kill Sullivan.

* * *

 _ **Zil Roxlinthe, age 12**_

 _ **District 3 Female**_

* * *

I didn't mind that Eve got to volunteer before me. I got to hear the confused murmurs of everybody around me. Three never had volunteers, never mind a twelve year old. And now there were about to be two. I grinned, and reached into the pocket of my jacket and curled my fingers around my switchblade knife. Nobody knew I had it, not even Eve, and we knew everything about each other. But it was my favorite possession, the one I used for all of our tests on animals.

On stage, Pepin looked just as surprised as everybody else. "It seems that we have a volunteer!" he said. He shoved the microphone in Eve's face. "What is your name dear?"

"Eve Roxlinthe," Eve said, smirking at the crowd. She strode away from Pepin, and stood, with an air of confidence, as the first tribute. Pepin gave her a strange look, but said into the microphone, "Well, a volunteer certainly is exciting! Let's see if we have another!" Pepin chose another slip.

"The second female tribute is Lani Bishop!" Pepin announced. I took my hand out of my pocket, and raised my hand, a twisted grin appearing on my face.

"I volunteer!" I yelled, and my mother grabbed my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she practically screamed at me. "I can't lose both of you!" I just yanked myself away from her, and walked to the aisle, the other girls parting so I didn't have to shove through them.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

 _ **Dayta Flash, age 15**_

 _ **District 3 Female**_

* * *

Two volunteers. And both sisters. Twelve year olds. What happened to them that caused them to volunteer for a death match? I hoped that they could make it far. I hated watching young tributes die.

Would there be another volunteer? I doubted it. The odds were against it. Three rarely had anybody volunteer, so having two right off the bat should have been a sign that this year wasn't going to be a normal year.

Pepin picked another slip, and the square went silent. I closed my eyes, and took deep, even breaths. It wasn't me. It wasn't going to be me.

"The third female tribute is Miss Dayta Flash!" Pepin announced. My eyes shot open, my heart racing.

 _There will be 144 of us, that makes my ultimate odds 144-1. Don't cry, Dayta, don't even think about it. Crying will get you nothing with the sponsors, decreasing your odds even more._ I walked through the rest of the fifteen year olds, my mind working furiously to calculate how to put the odds in my favor.

 _You may need to make an alliance, even though you may not want to. Allies will be good for protection against the Careers, and supplies, and moral support when it's needed._

I hit the center aisle, and shuffled my way to the stage. I looked up at the two girls, Eve and Zil, and the thought that they would have to die if I was going to win hit me, and left me with a dull ache inside.

Smarts could get you far in the arena, but my question was this: if two twelve year olds stood in my way of taking the crown, would I kill them, or let them kill me?

* * *

 _ **Xena Tompkins, age 15**_

 _ **District 3 Female**_

* * *

I knew Dayta. Not very well, but we were in the same year at school, so I had seen her around school. She was smart, and maybe her smarts could get her through the Games.

I held my hands behind my back, trying to hide my right hand from everybody. I was born with six fingers on that hand, and when I was adopted my Bridget and Lucy, my foster parents, they told me that they didn't have enough money to afford the operation to remove my extra finger. It didn't bother me, I was just self-conscience about it. And sometimes, like when I was working in the workshop, it was even _helpful_ sometimes. When you needed to hold a gear inside and old clock, a sixth finger helped.

Pepin was back at the girl's reaping bowl, making a big show out of choosing this next slip. Half of the girls were already chosen, so odds were slim to none that I would be picked, despite all of my extra tesserae. Besides, there were hundreds of other girls who could be reaped. It couldn't be me.

"May I please have on stage Miss Xena Tompkins!" Pepin asked.

 _The shop._ My first thought was not for myself or the fact that in a few short week, I could be dead. No, my first thought was for my family, and their workshop. Then I thought about myself. I wouldn't be able to get into the college I applied for. I wouldn't be able to work again.

But I was going to fight. Of course I was. Who wouldn't?

* * *

 _ **Luova Denker, age 15**_

 _ **District 3 Female**_

* * *

A girl next to me was sobbing, shaking uncontrollably with tears running down her face. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn't know how. I didn't even know that girl's name, let alone what I would say to cheer her up. And besides, it took a lot of time for me to actually open up and speak to people.

My eyes sought out my grandfather on stage, one of the past victors of the Hunger Games. He looked at me, and smiled reassuringly. I was still puzzling over the riddle that he told me last night. _I can't be seen, I can't be touched, when you see me you can't have me forever, I can give you anything you want, but when I'm gone everything is back to normal. What am I?_ Instead of worrying about the reaping, I was trying to figure out the riddle.

Solving problems always calmed me down, no matter how infuriating they became.

I was so lost in thought that when the Peacekeeper touched my arm, I jumped, surprised. What was going on? On stage, Pepin smiled a little, and said, "There you are Luova."

Had I been reaped? It wasn't possible, was it? I had taken out lots of tesserae, but only to help the poor in the district. I would help them constantly, and take out tesserae for the younger children so that they didn't have to. But I hadn't taken out so much that I was reaped, had I?

Seemed like I did. Because I was now a tribute, heading to the Capitol. But that didn't mean that I regretted helping the poor.

* * *

 _ **Maddsyn Holmes, age 18**_

 _ **District 3 Female**_

* * *

The reaping was almost halfway done. To be honest, I couldn't wait for it to be over so that I could slip back into my lab, and do some more science experiments. I had just recently gotten some new chemicals, and I couldn't wait to see what they were able to do.

Ever since I was a little girl, I had always been fascinated by science. I loved finding the answer to a question through experiments, and just doing experiments for fun. Anything I could do, I did it. And when I built my own lab, I spent even more time emmersed in science.

But it all went downhill from there. Last year, my mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, which meant that I had to take care of my seven year old sister, Nova, because my father was always working to get money for my mother's treatment. Nova was really a sweet girl, but she could get in the way when I'm trying to do experiments. But I tried to not lose my temper with her.

Pepin picked the final girl's slip. He walked back to the microphone, and I looked her the girls already reaped. Two twelve year olds and three fifteen year olds. One of the girls - Dayta, maybe - had a faraway look on her face, like she wasn't quite there.

"The final female tribute representing District Three is Maddsyn Holmes!" Pepin said, and I froze.

What caused fear? I had been wondering that for a long time. There wasn't a simple experiment to solve that problem. But the fear prickling my stomach was real, so once I reached the Capitol I could use that feeling along with all the technology at the Capitol's disposal to solve that hypothesis.

My experiments would give me an edge in the Games. So don't count me out just yet.

* * *

 **Happy New Year! My first update of 2018! I hope you all enjoyed it. Thank you to:**

 **gameshungerplayer for Eve and Zil,**

 **Foxfaceisthebest for Dayta,**

 **Fire'sCatching for Xena and Maddsyn,**

 **and Norbus95 for Luova.**

 **I hope I did them justice! Today's song is New Years Day by Taylor Swift (I thought that would be appropriate for today).**

 **This will probably be the last update for a week or so because I'm going back to school tomorrow and you all know how teachers just love to cram things in after break. So be expecting another update sometime later this week. Until then!**

 **-D9T**


	11. District Three Reaping: Males

**_Sullivan Roxlinthe, age 15_**

 ** _District 3 Male_**

* * *

I had always known that my sisters were up to something. Their experiments, their blatant air of evil. Honestly, I'm not sure how my parents didn't notice that their daughters were insane. I just wanted normal little sisters. Instead, I got Eve and Zil.

One boy in my section looked at me and snarled, "Those are your sisters, right?" I nodded, already knowing where this conversation was headed. I had been having it with several different people for years. I had always been associated with my sister's creepiness, mainly because I was their brother. But I never wanted any part of it. I wasn't like them. It was as simple as that.

"Are you gonna volunteer, too?" the boy asked. "Be just like your insane little sisters?" I simply shook my head. I didn't want to deal with this right now. Not during the reaping. Especially since Pepin had now chosen the first male slip. And Eve and Zil were staring me down like two hawks and snickering.

"The first male tribute for District Three is Sullivan Roxlinthe!" Pepin announced.

My sisters were up to something. While all of my shock and horror was boiling up inside of me, they were grinning and looked like they were trying to hold back laughs. What was _wrong_ with them?

Slowly, I walked out of my section and into the aisle. It sounded like my mother wasn't reacting very good to having all three of her children in this Quell. But through my haze of fear, I barely heard her. What had I done to deserved getting reaped?

As I mounted the steps, Pepin asked for volunteers. I knew that nobody would step forward to save me. Only my sisters were crazy enough to volunteer into this Quarter Quell. It was only enforced when I passed them, taking my spot as a tribute, and Zil grabbed my arm.

"Took a little too much tesserae, huh, Sullivan?" she asked, and my stomach dropped. They rigged me into the Games. And they were going to kill me.

* * *

 _ **Albert Fuse, age 15**_

 _ **District 3 Male**_

* * *

There were so many fifteen year olds on stage. Seemed like Three didn't have a very good chance of winning this year, with all of the younger tributes. And besides, I knew most of the tributes on stage, and they could barely do anything. They were all intelligent, but I was better than they all were combined. It was a known fact.

To try and keep my mind off of the reaping, I started daydreaming about what the arena might be like. The various traps and arena gimmicks used by the Gamemakers had always fascinated me. I had even designed a few arenas of my own, but I knew that the Capitol would never use them. My arenas were far too simple to gain the Capitol's approval. Would it be rural or urban? What would the mutts be like? How big would the arena be to accommodate all of the tributes? Just thinking about it made me giddy with excitement.

Pepin strode over to the boy's reaping bowl, and picked another slip of paper. Instantly, the square fell silent. I smiled, and put my head down so that other people wouldn't see. Sometimes the reaping was so entertaining. Take this year, for example. There were two volunteers, four fifteen year olds, and only one eighteen year old picked. There was something about the uncertainty of the reaping that I liked.

"The second male tribute is Albert Fuse!" Pepin announced.

I looked up. Me? Of course it was me. I flashed a smile, and started moving into the center aisle, projecting confidence. Me, a tribute in the Games. Just think of all the attention I'll get. Being a tribute means that you'll be one of the Capitol's favorite celebrities, if only for a few weeks. But still! Fame! Attention! And for me!

Make that five fifteen year olds for District Three. And one of them was coming back. Me.

When I reached the stage, I glanced at my fellow tributes. If I could get on their good sides, I could use them in the arena. Use and discard, just like a majority of my friends. I barely knew the kids on stage with me. Using them should be easy enough.

* * *

 _ **Link Dell, age 14**_

 _ **District 3 Male**_

* * *

So far, so good. Two names down, with four to go. And neither of the names called were mine, so there was a plus. All I knew was that if my name was chosen, I was going to flip out. When something doesn't go my way...well, let's just say it isn't pretty.

Sometimes, I was glad that I had no siblings. Like today, and every other reaping. It meant that I only had myself to worry about, instead of myself and any number of siblings that I might have had.

A few of the boys around me weren't reacting very well to the reaping. Honestly, I couldn't blame them. This year, everybody's chances of being reaped were higher, with a lower chance of actually escaping the arena. It was enough to make anybody scared, especially the kids with tesserae. Me, I was lucky enough to not have to take out any tesserae because my family wasn't dirt poor like a majority of this district.

Pepin picked another paper. I only had three slips. It wasn't me. I knew it _couldn't_ be me. Why would I be reaped? Closing my eyes, I whispered to myself, "You're completely safe."

"Mister Link Dell, the third male tribute for the Sicth Quarter Quell! Where are you, Link?" Pepin said, and my eyes flew open. I looked around, hoping for a volunteer. When nobody stepped forward and the Peacekeepers started looking for me in the crowd, anger began bubbling in my gut.

"Are you _serious_?" I screamed, several boys around me jumping in shock. "Nobody will volunteer?" The Peacekeepers found me, and they grabbed my arms. I yanked myself away from them, still screaming, "No! No, no, no! I'm not going into the Games. I will _not_! I _refuse_!"

The Peacekeepers finally got a hold of me, and dragged me to the stage. I struggled, but I eventually tired myself out, and let the Peacekeepers drag me to the stage. I guess I had to accept it. I was a tribute in the 150th Hunger Games. And I had to win.

* * *

 _ **Mac Skanner, age 18**_

 _ **District 3 Male**_

* * *

Everytime a name was read, I had to let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't me, at least so far. Maybe my optimism - if somewhat forced - was what was keeping me from the Games. Maybe that was keeping me safe. I had to believe it, though. I just had to.

I glanced back into the crowd and looked for my family. Or, my step-family. Because my mother wasn't at the reaping, she was at home, in a coma, like she has been for the past few months. My little step-sister, Joystixz, or Joy, caught sight of me and waved. I waved back, that simple wave another part of the constant lies I tell her. I don't want her to know just how dangerous her life was, so I lied to her. It was bittersweet.

Then I looked back on the stage, and at District Three's four living victors. We haven't had a victor for two decades, and the girl who won the 130th Games, Pyxel Estrada, took home the crown the year my father went into the Games and was killed in the bloodbath. I've seen the tape several times. I don't like talking about it. Maybe that's why I forced myself to be optimistic all the time. So that I don't end up like my father - dead at seventeen with a pregnant girlfriend back home.

I don't have a girlfriend though. I don't really have very many friends, only a few and I think they were only friends with me out of pity. My introverted and secretive nature didn't make the best combination for making friendships. I'm thankful for my few friends I have, though, even if they saw me as a sarcastic know-it-all.

Pepin's voice broke me out of my thoughts, bringing my attention back to the reaping. "The fourth male tribute is Mac Skanner!"

 _Don't let the emotion show._ I walked out of my section, willing my face to stay emotionless. So close. I was so close to surviving the reaping. Next year I could have been standing around the perimeter of the square, safe at last, hoping that my siblings weren't chosen. I was supposed to grow up, find a wife and have children. I was supposed to grow old with the love of my life, and die an old man.

But I was a tribute. In a few weeks, I would most likely be dead. Time for some more forced optimism.

* * *

 _ **Kane Slate, age 16**_

 _ **District 3 Male**_

* * *

The kid who was screaming for volunteers was still being held by a Peacekeeper. He wasn't going to survive. As terrible as I felt just _thinking_ that, I knew it was true. There was no way Link was going to survive the bloodbath, let alone the Games themselves.

There were only two names left, and then the reaping was over. I could make it through this reaping. I could do it. And the second the twelve tributes were brought into the Justice Building, I would get out of the square as quickly as possible so I could get back to my inventions. My current one was a double shield, and I was almost finished with it. Had the reaping not been today, I would have finished it earlier today. My drive was there this morning, and I'd find it again.

I pushed my glasses back up on my nose. My glasses weren't my favorite thing in the world. They made me stand out in a crowd, even in District Three, where lots of people wore glasses. I preferred to slip into the crowd unnoticed, and, when an event was over, quietly leave. It was how I lived, and I wanted to keep it that way.

"Kane Slate! Where are you, Kane?" Pepin said on stage. My head whipped up, my eyes wide. I felt myself begin to shake, and I quickly hustled into the aisle, trying not to make eye contact with anybody. A sudden yell made me stop short though.

"Way to go, Kane!" my mother yelled. "Yeah! Let's go!" My face burned, and I walked faster. My mother was always excited about everything, always energenic. She embarrassed me constantly, but I knew that she always meant well. But now wasn't the time. I bent my head down, and speed-walked to the stage. I reached into my pocket and clutched the prototype of my shield. It was always with me, as a sort of good luck charm. It didn't work today, but maybe it would work in the Games.

No, it _would_ work in the Games. Positivity was real, and it was going to help get me through the Games, as far as I got.

* * *

 _ **Kor Gozlemci, age 13**_

 _ **District 3 Male**_

* * *

The thing I was most thankful for was the fact that I was alive. I may have been born completely blind and brought up in an abusive household for the first ten years of my life, but I still had a beating heart and a working brain and air-filled lungs. And I was thankful for that.

Most of the people in the district were judgemental towards people with disabilities. Including me, and one of my closest friends, Diana. She was in an electrical accident a few years ago, and was paralyzed from the waist down. I was glad that she wasn't reaped. There was no way that she would survive the Games. But I was still a little nervous. I had taken out tesserae both for her and me, even though my uncle, Jaime, told me that I couldn't take any tesserae. But I still did.

My uncle and my mom were the only two members of my family who accepted and didn't mind the fact that I couldn't see. I didn't really mind that much, but then again, I wasn't bothered by much, anyways. My dad thought that I was completely useless, so he beat me, thinking that would make me see. So my mom divorced him, and brought me to live with her brother. My older brother, Uri, stayed with our dad while my mom and I moved in with Uncle Jaime.

The sound of Pepin walking across the stage - amplified by the microphone - filled my ears as I clenched the rope penning me in with all of the other thirteen year old boys. Somebody's hand covered mine, and I looked up, wanting to see the masked face of Grenwich, the Peacekeeper who was assigned to me to escort me to the stage in case I got reaped. I could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "Don't worry, Kor. You'll be fine." I nodded.

"The final tribute representing District Three is," Pepin said, the microphone picking up the sound of unfolding paper. "Kor Gozlemci!"

Sorrow coursed through me. Why me? Out of all people, why was I reaped? At least, I was glad that Diana wasn't chosen. While all of my emotions were stirring, Grenwich's hand closed over my wrist. "Time to head up, buddy."

I looked up where Grenwich's face hopefully was. I didn't need to see him in order to see the sadness on his face. I heard it in his voice. Trying to keep my voice from shaking, I said to him, "Then let's go."

* * *

 **And, there were the District Three males! Thanks to:**

 **gameshungerplayer for Sullivan,**

 **Golden Moon Huntress for Albert,**

 **Foxfaceisthebest for Link and Mac,**

 **Fluffytail15 for Kane,**

 **and Norbus95 for Kor.**

 **I hope I did them all justice! I did struggle writing this chapter a little bit (writer's block hit after the first paragraph of Albert's POV), so I apologize if this chapter is a little shaky. This chapter's song suggestion is Wings by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis.**

 **Also, I have a poll on my profile for your favorite tribute from each district. The District One poll is up now, and when I get the D4F reaping out, that one is coming down and the District Two one is going up. Remember to review! See you all next time in District Four!**


	12. District Four Reaping: Females

**_Marina Tripp, age 17_**

 ** _District 4 Female_**

* * *

Three. That's the number of female volunteers this year. District Four was falling further and further away from being Careers. We had more reaped tributes, less people willing to volunteer, and generally, less victors. My parents weren't thrilled when they heard the news that only three trained girls were volunteering for the Games this year, but they were happy that their only daughter was going in. They don't hate me or anything, they were just obsessed with bringing honor to the district.

The square was silent as the mayor, the victors, and the escort, Elba, walked onto the stage. As I watched Elba sit down daintily, cross her ands in her lap, and smile brightly, my mind drifted, wondering what the Capitol citizens were exposed to that the district citizens weren't that made them bright and cheerful all the time. I Haas seen enough of Elba over my seventeen years of life to know that it wasn't just an act for her. She was genuinely bubbly and ditzy all the time.

I had always tried my hardest not to hate anybody, always staying open-minded about everybody. But it was hard sometimes, with people like Elba, who worshipped the Games. I may not be a very spiteful person, but once I'm in that arena, I won't kill as much as the other Careers will. And no Career alliance, either. I wanted to show people that tributes from outer districts could be just as strong as Careers.

Elba pranced to the microphone, landing on her tiptoes everytime and gently fluttering back down to her heel. I tried to hide my distaste, but everybody around me was making faces, too, so I just became another face in the crowd. Then wondered why human nature caused us to want to blend in with a crowd once you reached a certain period of time in your life. Humans were extraordinary organisms, and I wanted to know every detail on how they worked.

"Welcome, District Four, to the reaping for the 150th Hunger Games!" Elba announced, and some people clapped, but some remained silent. I knew my parents were clapping, though, even if I remained still.

I was going to volunteer. I was going to become a Career. I wanted to win, but what would I do to win?

"Let's not wait any longer than we have to," Elba said, tiptoeing to the girl's Reaping ball and daintily choosing a slip. She walked back to the microphone, and unfolded the paper. I squeezed my eyes shut. I had to do this. Only three girls would be saved this year. This one had to be.

"Tiki Marsh!" Elba said, and my eyes flew open. Now or never.

I stepped out of my section and volunteered myself as the first tribute for District Four.

* * *

 ** _Rina Chinin, age 18_**

 ** _District 4 Female_**

* * *

I watched Marina take the stage with a huge smile on my face. I was so happy for her, and Luna, the other volunteer, and myself for making it this far. We were going to do great! With all of our training and weapon skills, these Games would be over before they even started.

Bouncing on my toes, I felt my smile grow even wider when I realized that it was my turn next. While I knew that I could barely do survival stations - I hadn't put forth a lot of effort while practicing that in the Academy - I could use a trident and was fine with killing. These Hunger Games would be a breeze. And I would be valuable to my allies. I would be able to cheer them up if anything happened. See? I would be fine!

Elba congratulated Marina on stage. Marina had a smile on her face, but it seemed forced. I knew she wasn't as excited to volunteer as me and Luna were, but she should have been happy! She was going to help bring honor to our district! That was more than somebody could ask for.

I tensed as Elba chose a second slip. With all of my excitement bubbling inside me, I could barely stand still. It was almost time. Almost my time to shine. I could hardly wait.

"The second female tribute is Arielle Fairmont!" Elba announced. I jumped up, my hand raised, a giant smile flashing on my face.

"I volunteer!" I screamed, and ran to the stage. I mounted the steps, and brushed my fingers through my black hair. When I was younger, people would make fun of me for my Japanese heritage. I looked different than everybody else, so they would make fun of me for it. Now that I was a tribute - and would return as a victor - nobody would make fun of my again.

I knew that I could do this. I knew how to use weapons, so did it really matter that I didn't care about the rest?

* * *

 ** _Luna Blackburn, age 17_**

 ** _District 4 Female_**

* * *

I didn't really care that I was the last female volunteer. Marina and Rina both didn't care, either, when the Academy told us to make our our volunteering order. I wasn't thrilled to be volunteering, but if it meant I could help my friends with their poverty, then I would do it. My family and friends meant the world to me.

Most kids in District Four dreamed of becoming a tribute, taking the arena by storm, then returning home a victor, a celebrity to the Capitol. Not me. I just wanted a quiet life with my family without the Games or the Academy. Had, most of the time, victors didn't live luxurious lives. They were scarred from the arena, distant from their family, I had even heard stories that some victors were forced into prostitution. So far, I knew that two of our victors were: Marina Pier, who won the 101st Games, and Zephyr Stillwater, who won the 138th. I'm sure there were countless others.

But I wasn't going to back out now. This last girl needed me to save her. She had a family who would miss her, and I don't think I could handle the shame.

Elba was back at the girl's reaping ball. She chose a slip right from the top, smiling softly to herself. I rolled my eyes at her. She's so fake. All Capitolites were.

Elba unfolded the third slip of paper, and I glanced back at the crowd to see my family. My father,, my stepmother, and stepsisters, Isabelle and Katrina. They were eleven, so the was their last year before they entered the reaping. I'm glad. I don't think I could handle seeing them in the Games this year, knowing that half of the girls who were reaped would go into the arena.

My real mother died when I was twelve. We don't know why. One day she was completely healthy, they next day she just didn't wake up. I had been devastated, but a year later, my father married my stepmother, and they had the twins together.

"The third female tribute is Miss Rebeca Cabot!" Elba's voice shook me out of my thoughts. When I looked back and saw the thirteen year old section part around a girl, anxiety to run to the stage took over.

I stepped forward and yelled, "I volunteer!"

* * *

 _ **Hayley River, age 17**_

 _ **District 4 Female**_

* * *

The reaping before you planned to volunteer was the worst. You had to sit through a reaping and watch two kids volunteer and not come back. Or in this year's case, twelve kids volunteer and not come back. I just wished that I was chosen to volunteer this year. All of the tributes in the arena would make for a great show to be in.

I looked up at all of Four's victors. In the past fifty years, we have had six. I envied them, mainly because they have experienced all of the thrills and adrenaline rushes that being in the arena comes with, and refused to talk about it. Why would you not want to talk about the greatest event in your lifetime? I just didn't understand.

When he was eighteen, my father was going to volunteer for the Games, but he chickened out at the last minute. Since then, he had taught me and my sisters, Coral and Anabelle, to never back out of anything. I guessed that was where I got my competitive edge from, my endless search for adventure and adrenaline. I absolutely loved daring dares and going potentially dangerous things, just to feel that rush of adrenaline that came with it.

"And, now, for the fourth female tribute," Elba said, and plucked another slip from the bowl. The three girls on stage exchanged nervous looks as Elba unfolded the piece of paper. I frowned. Why were they nervous? Was this next volunteer not reliable, or something?

"Hayley River!" Elba announced. I blinked, and stood still, momentarily stunned. I had taken out tesserae to help support my family - and to boost my chances of being chosen - but I had never thought that it would actually happen. But, I was going to volunteer next year anyways, so what's one year of a difference?

I walked out of my section, smiling, excitement beginning to form inside of me. A tribute. I was a tribute in the largest Hunger Games Panem would ever see. And when I mounted the steps, I accepted this challenge.

* * *

 _ **Cailey Molinari, age 16**_

 _ **District 4 Female**_

* * *

One girl was reaped. So, what? That didn't mean anything. Maybe that one volunteer chickened out. It didn't matter.

Some girls near me were talking to each other. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I listened anyways. One of them was saying, "Didn't you hear? The Academy only picked three girls to volunteer this year! The next few girls picked are going into the Games."

The other girl whispered back, "Really? I just thought that other girl was a volunteer!"

"Nope," the first girl said. "You better hope you don't get chosen." I furrowed my eyebrows. Only three volunteers? I knew that District Four's Career status had been declining, but I didn't think it was _that_ bad. And if there were only three volunteers, that meant the net few girls who were reaped were tributes...

I whipped around, looking for Laney in the thirteen year old section. My little sister was white as a sheet, but when she saw me, her face brightened. I held up three fingers for her, trying to tell her. She shrugged, and I mouthed, "Three volunteers" to her. She nodded frantically, and I looked back at the stage, my face solemn.

Three volunteers. Doubt and fear planted themselves inside my gut. What if I was reaped? I had heard of people being rigged into the Games because of illegal activity. I had to steal sometimes to help out my family. What if I was reaped as a punishment?

Elba picked the fifth slip. I wasn't going to get picked. I couldn't. My family needed me. Laney, my two other siblings, Jaya and Ray, my father, and my sick mother. They needed me. I couldn't go.

"Cailey Molinari!" Elba said, and my world shattered. I felt tears slip down my cheeks, as I stepped into the aisle. My foot caught on a loose cobblestone, and I pitched forward, but caught myself before I fell.

I had been reaped, and I was a tribute in the Sixth Quarter Quell.

* * *

 _ **Fiorentina D'Aquarelle, age 18**_

 _ **District 4 Female**_

* * *

The reaping was a waste of time. For a businesswoman like myself, all time was needed, and this useless reaping was below me. All of these trembling kids around me weren't worthy of my attention. I mean, look at me! One of the most famous business people in the entire distrct.

What was my business, you asked? Well, a few years ago, I came up with the idea of a mermaid tail that would help somebody swim faster in water. But _I_ didn't have the time to create it, so I "convinced" some smart kids to make them for me, and just like that, I was famous across the entire district. It was just meant to be.

I wound a piece of my blonde hair around my finger, checking my nails. I knew they were perfect already, I just wanted to see them again. One of the girls next to me shifted uncomfortably, holding several of my mermaid tails. After the reaping, everybody was always in a good mood - because their children weren't reaped - so it was a prime time to do some selling. I could sell these anywhere.

"Um, Miss D'Aquarelle?" the girl next to me said. I turned to her, forcing a smile at her hideous form. She's poor, but she gets paid by me just enough to buy some nice clothes, even though she - and none of my other employees - doesn't spend the money on clothes. They have to "help out their families" and "get food." People always say that true beauty is within. Wrong. If you're ugly, you're ugly.

"I was wondering if I could just go home after the reaping today? I'll start early tomorrow," she quickly added. I smiled.

"Of course," I said, faking kindness. The girl quickly thanked me, and I turned back to the stage, where Elba was back at the microphone, a slip of paper in her hand. She unfolded it and announced the name, "Fiorentina D'Aquarelle!"

I narrowed my eyes. How dare she reap me? _Me!_ I was must too important to be reaped! And _where_ was the volunteer? Somebody had to save me. I couldn't go into the Games!

A Peacekeeper grabbed my arm. I yanked it away, screaming, "Don't touch me! I'll go by myself!" I huffed, and marched out of my section, and straight onto the stage, anger fueling me. This was not happening.

* * *

 **And there are the females for District Four! Thanks to:  
**

 **platypus27 for Marina,**

 **Fire'sCatching for Rina and Luna,**

 **Jolteon2404 for Hayley,**

 **Jaylinne for Cailey,**

 **and Winter's Writing for Fiorentina.**

 **I hope I did them all justice! I had a ton of fun writing these girls. Today's song is River by Eminem and Ed Sheeran.**

 **A few announcements. First off, new poll on my profile for your favorite District Two tribute. Be sure to vote! And second, I posted a list of victors on my profile under the timeline for my universe, so check that out to see your tribute's mentors. And thirdly, this doesn't have to do with the story, but, to all of those Jacksonville Jaguars fans reading this, you're going down this Sunday! (Yes I am a Patriots fan. Sue me.). Until next time!**


	13. District Four Reaping: Males

_**Irwin Murdoc, age 18**_

 _ **District 4 Male**_

* * *

Maybe me wanting to volunteer was stupid. Sure, I had trained in the Academy, but I wasn't one of the chosen volunteers. I wasn't even sure how many male volunteers there were, considering the number of girls who volunteered. But I had to do this. Zale needed me. My poor little brother had home dying from who-knew-what, trying to lift everybody's spirits by saying that he was fine, that he felt better as the days went on, which obviously wasn't true. I couldn't fail him.

Then again, I knew I would have to kill in order to get back. Kill young children who were ripped away from their homes and families, and most likely wouldn't return. That thought made me want to back out, like it had for the past few days. Young kids didn't deserve this. They should be running with their friends, playing and generally being happy. Not quivering in fear, praying that they weren't chosen for a death match. It was disheartening, even for a bloodthirsty trained killer to see.

But I had my plan for the arena and everything else before it. I was going to be fine.

On stage, Elba recounted the girl tributes. One of them was still crying. Desire to comfort her, to give her a squeeze on the shoulder and tell her everything was going to be fine flickered inside me, and I tried my best to dampen it. I was going to be that girl's fellow tribute. Chances were she was going to die in order for me to win. I couldn't let my emotions get out of control.

"And, now, the boys," Elba said, and skipped to the boy's reaping bowl. She plucked a slip out, and pranced back to the microphone. In the instant before the name was read, I thought of everything I was leaving behind. Zale, my two sisters, Yara and Ariva, my father. I wished my mother was here so that she could send me off to the Capitol with a final hug. But she died three years ago, in childbirth with Ariva.

"Hermit Yuri!" Elba announced. Instantly, my hand shot up.

"I volunteer!" I shouted, and ran forward. I could do this. I had to.

* * *

 ** _Maxwell "Max" Moore, age 17_**

 ** _District 4 Male_**

* * *

Who was this kid, and why was he volunteering? I looked more closely, and recognized him as Irwin Murdoc. He was part of the Academy, but wasn't one of the chosen volunteers. He was always called "soft" and "weak." Was that why he was volunteering? To prove everybody wrong?

If my mother knew I was thinking thoughts like that, she would _kill_ me. She was absolutely obsessed with good manners and being polite, which was the complete opposite of the Academy. When I was chosen to volunteer, it was like two totally different aspects of my life clashed together. There was my mother telling me to be polite all the time, and there was the Academy breathing down my neck, telling me to slaughter everybody in that arena, or risk being killed by somebody else.

Not the best combination in the world.

On stage, Elba was congratulating Irwin on volunteering. She just kept babbling on and on, and I felt the annoyance from all of the other boys around me building. Even my own tolerance of Elba was crumbling. Elba may have been passionate about her job, but she spent way too long talking with the tributes.

I glanced over towards the girl's section, with hopes of finding my girlfriend, Rose Harbor. She wasn't very happy that I was volunteering (that girl could hold a grudge for a _very_ long time) so I wasn't surprised when I saw her just staring straight ahead. I looked away, disappointed. Hopefully, she would come visit me to say goodbye. I wanted to put things right between us.

Elba was choosing another boy's slip. She plucked one out after stirring the papers around for a minute or two, and skipped back to the microphone, unfolding the paper as she went.

"Isle Verano!" Elba said cheerfully. I shot forward, into the aisle.

"I volunteer!" I yelled. I bounded up the steps, and overlooked the district. Rose was trying her hardest not to look at me, and I felt the stres of my family burning into me. My older brother, Blake, who missed out on his last chance to volunteer last year, and my little sister Cora, who was never a part of the Academy. They all looked proud of me.

And I knew that knowledge would help me to the crown.

* * *

 ** _Nemo Dabney, age 16_**

 ** _District 4 Male_**

* * *

Next. I was going to volunteer next, and take that arena by storm. I was going to kill so many tributes, and return home, a champion of District Four. How hard could it be?

Sure, I had met some of our victors, and they had said winning wasn't all it had shaped up to be. Some of the victors, namely Marina and Schooner, were traumatized by their victory. They were weak. Weak victors equaled victors who weren't good victors. They weren't worthy of that title.

But I was. I was a perfectly capable Career who was going to bring the crown and glory back to Four.

Elba was still blabbing on to Max. What's your name, why did you volunteer, blah, blah, blah. It took forever, and I was becoming antsy. I just wanted to break free from this throng of people and get up on stage, and bask in the glory that volunteering comes with.

 _Will you hurry up?_

"Alright, and now for our third male tribute." Elba picked a third slip, and I tensed to run. Time to volunteer. It was my turn. I could barely wait.

When Elba got back to the microphone, she only had time to unfold the paper and open her mouth before I screamed, "I volunteer!"

The crowd parted around me, and I rushed towards the aisle, all eyes in the district on me. I smiled confidently, trying to show everybody that I was going to win this year. District Four's status may be going down the tubes, but I was going to help boost it.

If Four won this year, we would be great. So we had to win. It was that simple.

And I could win.

* * *

 ** _Rhodes Ronny Mallowsweet, age 13_**

 ** _District 4 Male_**

* * *

I rolled my eyes at the boys on stage, my face distorted into a sour expression. The Games were wrong. Anybody who trained for the Games was a moron. They were throwing their lives away for a chance to do what? Kill children? Have a slim chance of returning victorious? It was all wrong. This would never happen in America. _Never_.

America was all about democracy and accepting everybody. They would accept immigrants from other countries because they were kind people. Panem may have been built on the grave of the United States, but America needed to come back. Would there be a Hunger Games back in America? Exactly.

The New Americans was the group that I was a member of. I had joined a few years ago, but got my older sister, Alazya, to join with me, and because she was older, she was more respected than I was in that group. We started riots and such, and had other branches in other districts, but I think our branch had the most power behind it because we were a Career district. We were closer to the Capitol than the other two districts with branches - Six and Nine.

To spread the word to all the districts, I was going to volunteer.

Well, that wasn't the only reason. To spread the word about the New Americans was one, but I also wanted to stop some bloodthirsty, Career brute from volunteering. I wasn't going to kill. I wasn't going to ally with the Careers. I was going to spread the message and die in defiance of the Capitol. Because screw them.

Elba selected another slip, and I grasped the rope that was penning me in with all the other thirteen year olds, ready to slide underneath it. I had to beat this next id to the stage. I couldn't let him up there. My stopping this bloodthirsty Career could help elongate some poor kid's life in the arena by another day or two.

Elba unfolded the paper but didn't have any time to read it when I yelled, "I volunteer!"

* * *

 ** _Shawn Naylor, age 14_**

 ** _District 4 Male_**

* * *

So far, none of the kids who worked for me were reaped. That was good. Those kids were really sweet people, and the only reason they got into my illegal business was because they needed money to help their families. Well, and I did have to do a little bit of manipulating, too.

Sure, there were other, _legal_ companies for repairing boats and sails, but people came back to us because of our quality. Adults only care about the paycheck they'll get at the end of the day. There's nothing compared to the perfectionist drive of a young child.

Looking up at Elba on stage, I bit back from telling a few snarky jokes to the boys around me. When people looked at me, they saw an illegal business owner who hated authorities. What they didn't know was that I loved telling jokes and just generally being sarcastic. Humor made a tough life a little bit better.

Although with a fantastic family like mine, life wasn't all that bad.

I loved my two parents with all my heart, and they loved me. With all of that love going around, the fact that I manipulated half of the kids who work for me didn't seem to blend in with the rest of my lifestyle. But I had to do what I had to do.

"And now, for the fifth male tribute!" Elba said, and walked to the reaping bowl. Fear nibbled at my gut when Elba held up the slip. Even though I had only taken out two tesserae, the thought of being reaped left me terrified. I just had to hope that it wasn't me, it wasn't me...

"Shawn Naylor!" It was me. Desire to run to Mama, to have her enfold me in her arms took over, and I waited for the volunteer to step forward. It was only when the Peacekeepers came for me that I put on a smirk and pretended not to care.

But I did care. I wanted to be in Mama's arms, safe and sound.

* * *

 ** _Losho More, age 14_**

 ** _District 4 Male_**

* * *

Last night was fun. My friend, Barksdales, had a party in honor of, well, I'm not really sure what, but it was a great party. Both Caeli and Iona were there, and I was _so close_ to spending some quality time with Iona, but she refused, mainly because she wanted to "protect my innocence." There _were_ some drawbacks to pretending to be innocent.

However, I did happen to start two fistfights, break up a budding couple, and set my two admirers at each other's throats, so I'd consider that a job well done.

In everybody's eyes, I was the little guy who knew nothing about getting older, nothing about what happens during the teenage years. I was an innocent little angel in a world of darkness. That couldn't have been further from the truth. The only one who really knew what I was capable of was my brother Martin, but nobody believed him whenever he would tell people.

And, to sweeten everything, I had my own backup squad of trained Careers, so when somebody looked at me funny, I would act upset, and one of my "bodyguards" would threaten the kid until he or she would leave with a terrified look on their face.

Manipulation was the key to surviving the Academy when you weren't all that good. The only thing was I was the only one who knew that, so I got my pick of backup.

On stage, Elba was picking another paper, the last one. Almost all of District Four's tributes were chosen. She crossed back to the microphone, and called out the name, "Losho More!"

Me? Shock ran through my blood, until the realization that I could use my young age as an advantage for the sponsors. Quickly, I whipped up some tears as I stumbled to the stage. I was going to play the "cute little reaped saint" angle my entire journey in the Capitol.

And nobody would stop me.

* * *

 **I'm in such a good mood right now. Pats are on to Super Bowl LII! Yay! Haha, anyways, thanks to:**

 **maddyodair for Irwin,**

 **Foxfaceisthebest for Max and Nemo,**

 **SparkALeah for Rhodes,**

 **Jaylinne for Shawn,**

 **and Norbus95 for Losho.**

 **I hope I did them all justice! Today's song is Havana by Camilla Cabello and Young Thug.**

 **So, nothing new, really. The District Two poll is still up, and will be taken down next chapter. I think my updating days will be Sundays, mainly because I've been updating on Sundays for the past few weeks. Next chapter is the females from District Five! We're officially done with our Careers!**

 **-D9T**


	14. District Five Reaping: Females

**_Elizabeth Paylor, age 16_**

 ** _District 5 Female_**

* * *

I watched, motionless, as the mayor, Five's new escort, and our victors took the stage. The two glass balls holding all of the names reflected the gray storm clouds, and as the mayor stood to give his annual speech, a swift wind picked up. It was almost as if the sky had sensed the mood of everybody in the district. Reaping Day in District Five was like a public execution.

"And, I would like to introduce our new escort, Pixie!" the mayor said with very little enthusiasm. Pixie, however, jumped right up, a bright smile on her face, ready to start her first reaping. She kept glancing at the sky as she walked to the microphone, and ran into it. I smiled. Whenever somebody did something stupid because they weren't paying attention, I couldn't help myself. It was like a reflex.

"Hello, everybody!" Pixie said. "As much as I would like to take this slow, it seems like we may not have enough time. So, let's begin!" She walked over to the girl's reaping bowl and pulled one of the slips. To distract myself, I listened in to the conversation a few girls around me were having.

"I think this may be a thunderstorm," one girl was saying. "Once this thing is over, I dare you to stand outside with a metal rod." I guessed I couldn't hide my horror at an idea like that, because the girl turned to me. "Would you do that?"

"Oh definitely," I said automatically. "Yeah, I love things like that." Lies. They were all lies. Safe in my house was where I wanted to be during a thunderstorm. In every single somewhat dangerous situation there was, I would be as far away from it as possible. And my lying was another one of my reflexes, one that had become a real problem between me and my family, namely my grandparents.

"The first girl is Miss Elizabeth Paylor!" Pixie called, and my head whipped up to face the stage. Some type of horrible flower planted itself in my stomach, spreading it's roots, then blossoming, sending fear throughout my entire being. No, no, no, I couldn't be reaped! I couldn't be a tribute! I wasn't ready!

But apparently the Peacekeepers who came to get me didn't care.

* * *

 _ **Elena Proessimer, age 13**_

 _ **District 5 Female**_

* * *

 _Please don't rain. Please don't rain. Please don't rain. Please wait until after the reaping. Please, please, please._ I stood in my section, gripping the rope for all it was worth, staring at the gray storm clouds. My least favorite thing in the world? Water. I guessed somebody could say it was silly, but two years ago, I was with my mom in the boiler room of one of the factories when one of them malfunctioned. Water streamed out, and I barely made it out of there alive. It's reasonable. I wanted to live.

A clap of thunder sounded, making me and several other people jump. I glanced over towards the boy's section, and spotted my best friend Jule. He gave my a comforting look, and I knew my face must have been white as a sheet. I absolutely hated the reaping. It just put everybody's nerves on edge.

Pixie quickly plucked another paper from the bowl. One girl latched onto my hand. I looked at her in shock, but my surprise faded when I saw the terrified look in her eyes. I put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at me. "It's going to be fine," I whispered to her. "You'll be okay."

The girl quickly nodded, then whispered back, "I'm just scared it's gonna be me. Aren't you nervous?"

I _was_ nervous it was going to be me, but I put on a reassuring smile to calm the girl down. "Not one bit," I said, trying to sound comforting. "We'll both be fine. You'll see." With that, I turned back to the stage, praying that it wasn't my name on that slip of paper. But a small voice in the back of my head whispered, _But what if it is you?_

It wasn't going to be. It couldn't be.

"The second female tribute is Elena Proessimer! Where is Elena?" Pixie announced, and I felt my heart stop. I pulled my hand from the girl's, and she gave me an accusing look. I trying to ignore it, along with all of the stares that were being directed at me. Tears were building in my eyes as I moved into the aisle. Walking to the stage, I could hold them back with a little difficulty. But once I got halfway there, I lost control, and cried my heart out. Why me? Why was I reaped?

A drop of rain hit the back of my neck, the sky crying with me for my impending death.

* * *

 ** _Abbigail "Abbi" Archard, age 15_**

 ** _District 5 Female_**

* * *

That poor girl. I felt awful as the thirteen year old mounted the steps, sobbing. Why would the Capitol have a little girl like her participate in their Hunger Games? It wasn't right. My maternal instincts wanted to volunteer for her, but I wasn't that brave. I knew that. And, besides, I had Dana to think about. My mentally unstable little sister who had just turned eligible for the Hunger Games in the year that she was most likely to be reaped. And I had to be ready if her name was called.

 _Don't think like that_ , I told myself. Being positive was a much better way to live than being negative, wasn't it? It could brighten anybody's day, and just that knowledge alone made me happy. That was why the reaping was a terrible time in this district. Our tributes rarely won, so everybody was scared. It was awful. As much as I wanted to spread cheer, I wouldn't be able to make a dent in this general gloom.

The rain had started. It wasn't very heavy, just enough to get you wet and cold and uncomfortable. On stage, Pixie sighed, looking out at all of us who were getting soaked while she, the mayor, the victors, and the two tributes stood underneath a cover. Lucky them. They were all perfectly dry. I smiled, trying to lighten everybody's mood. It didn't work as planned.

"Alright, I guess I should hurry this up," Pixie said. A few girls around me muttered something unpleasant towards her, as Pixie quickly selected a slip right from the top of the bowl. She reached the microphone and unfolded it. "Abbigail Archard!"

 _No._ I felt myself begin to shake. It couldn't be me. Quickly, I ran out of my section towards the back, and saw Dana immediately. She was crying, and as I took her into my arms for a hurried embrace, she lashed out, straining to break free. But I held fast. I couldn't go. I couldn't leave her. I just couldn't.

Hands on my shoulders, my arms, ripping me away from Dana. From my sister. Sobbing, I let go, promising Dana that I would come back as the Peacekeepers dragged me to the stage.

 _You have to win, Abbi. You_ have _to._

* * *

 ** _Celes Alexander, age 18_**

 ** _District 5 Female_**

* * *

If I was chosen for the Games, I was ready. I knew how to use weapons, mostly spears. Training was all I did, day and night. My mother would always tell me that she barely even knew me anymore, that she hadn't seen me grow up. All in one ear and out the other. I knew my mother was just being cautious. I vaguely remembered her telling me that everybody had a method to cope with grief, but mine should be gone by now, it had happened so long ago. Why she would tell me that, I have no idea.

I pulled on my high socks, pulling the top out and letting go, trying to distract myself. Usually, I'm not like this. Bursting at the seams with energy, always good for a laugh, _that's_ me. Not this moody girl who came to the reaping. But the reapings were a slow time for me. I couldn't train. I had to come here. If I wasn't penned in with all of the other eighteen year old girls, I would be fine.

 _Just picture wide open space,_ I thought. Yes, that was better. Open spaces were better than closed spaces. And once this reaping was over, I could leave and go back to my backyard and train. The rain didn't bother me much. I'd been outside in the rain for hours on end. Ten minutes for the reaping wouldn't kill me.

Pixie moved to pick another name from the bowl. Looking at her ridiculous tomato red hair, I cracked a smile. I couldn't help it. I turned to the girl next to me, and whispered, "Hey, why did the tomato turn red?" She looked at me funny, and I gestured to Pixie. Her face softened, and she asked, "Why?"

I could barely hold in my laughter as I replied, "Because it saw the salad dressing." To keep it in, I slapped a hand over my mouth so that my laughter wasn't as loud as I knew it would be. The girl just smiled.

"Okay, the fourth female tribute is Celes Alexander," Pixie said, and with a shock, I realized that was my name. I clenched my fists, and moved into the aisle, nervous before I remembered I had training. I could use a spear better than anybody in the district. I had a good shot at becoming Five's fourth living victor. Excitement bubbled inside me, and a small smile blossomed on my face. I mounted the steps, ready as ever for these Games.

* * *

 ** _Destiny Lunyard, age 16_**

 ** _District 5 Female_**

* * *

I pretended to scoff at the last girl who was reaped for the people around me. Everybody thought that I was a spoiled rich girl, superior to everybody else. That couldn't have been further from the truth. I just played up to the role because, well, if people thought that was who I was, then maybe that was who I was supposed to be. I don't know.

I hunched over a little, trying to keep my shirt front as dry as possible. Once the rain had started, my white shirt had started clinging to my skin and becoming transparent. It was times like these when I was glad that they separated the boys from the girls during the reaping. If there were any boys near me, they would all be gawking at my soaked through shirt. It was embarrassing enough with all girls.

Sometimes, I wished I was just a normal girl with a handful of friends. It would be nice, instead of having a horde of people following me around everywhere I went. But life doesn't always go the way you want it to.

Still, nothing could stop me from hoping.

As Pixie scurried to pick a fifth slip, I glanced towards the perimeter of the square, looking for my parents and older sister. My sister had just turned nineteen, so she was safe from the reapings, and I was glad. For my parents' sake, having two daughters in this particular reaping would be hard for them. Even though they were two of Five's most prominent council members, they were powerless against the reaping.

Pixie walked back to the microphone, a slip in hand. "The fifth female tribute is Destiny Lunyard!" Pixie announced.

Tears flooded my eyes, as my chest heaved from fear. I couldn't win the Games. That was a fact. There was no way. There would be so many tributes this year, with thirty six trained Careers. Thirty six! The Career pack would be bigger than the normal number of tributes.

I was doomed.

* * *

 ** _Annalise "Lisey" Hathaway, age 15_**

 ** _District 5 Female_**

* * *

I chewed on my fingernails, overcome with anxiety. Only one more name left. One more and I was safe from another reaping. I was scared that it would be me, but terrified it would be one of my sisters, Lydia and Delilah. I had always been nervous to lose a family member, mainly because I'd heard so many stories about losing siblings and parents from kids at school.

To keep my mind off of the reaping, I thought about the latest place I'd explored: an abandoned hydraulic electricity plant. There were plenty around the district, but this one was the biggest by far. It was so cool, with all of the giant tubes and old elevator systems and giant tanks of scummy water. I'm sure that, at its prime, that plant could produce enormous amounts of electricity. Maybe enough to power the whole district.

I wished that Lydia and Delilah would go with me sometimes when I went exploring. But they were against that. Lydia was usually studying, or reading, or something like that, and Delilah was out with her friends doing illegal things. I guessed that in a way, I was doing illegal business when I went into abandoned factories; I was trespassing. Or, as the Peacekeepers would say, "Trespassing on the Capitol's land."

Everything belonged to the Capitol. Why did it matter where I went?

A bunch of girls around me were moaning about the rain. I didn't really mind it. I'd been out in the rain thousands of times. Outside was where I belonged. I was rarely inside. Even during the summer, I would take a blanket and a pillow and sleep outside.

I had distracted myself so much, I didn't even notice Pixie was back at the microphone until she said, "And the last female tribute is Miss Annalise Hathaway!"

Surprise flooded my veins. That was _my_ name. A single tear slipped down my cheek as I stepped into the aisle. I was going into the Hunger Games. It would be just like one big, dangerous adventure.

* * *

 **There were the females for District Five! Thank you so much to:**

 **BabyRue11 for Elizabeth,**

 **66samvr for Elena,**

 **Red Roses1000 for Abbi,**

 **Professor Boo.k for Celes,**

 **gameshungerplayer for Destiny,**

 **and Fire'sCatching for Lisey.**

 **I hope I did them all justice! I really enjoyed writing these girls. Today's song is (and I'm going for a little bit of a throwback this chapter) Girlfriend by Avril Langrine. That song came out in 2007. That's so long ago.**

 **New poll up. Go vote! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Until next time!**


	15. District Five Reaping: Males

**_Virus Mackinaw, age 15_**

 ** _District 5 Male_**

* * *

I was staring to get fed up with this rain. It was coming down hard, now, and making me clench my fists to keep from lashing out. Or maybe it was because I was turning my hands into fists so that I could hit somebody... It was hard to tell. Too many emotions blending together: hatred, annoyance, the need to just take my anger out.

Pixie hurried to the boy's reaping bowl, and chose the first slip, almost knocking the bowl over. I imagined her knocking it over and all of the papers flying away and her being killed by the Capitol. I grinned wickedly. Call me strange, call be messed in the head, call me anything. _That's_ true entertainment.

Like the Hunger Games.

I tapped my foot impatiently waiting for Pixie to read the name. _Hurry up,_ I thought, glaring at her. _Hurry up!_

In the brief second before Pixie unfolded the slip and called out the name, I thought about my two younger sisters who were in the reaping with me: Buggie and Telsa. While the six girls on stage seemed like they could put up a good show, I wondered what it would be like with either of them in the Games. Surely, it wouldn't end well. One - or both - of them would be dead within the first few minutes.

Then I looked at the other girls on stage. With placements in mind, I ranked all six of them in terms of how well they did in the Games. There were two girls still crying away, the thirteen year old and the girl who tried to run. Bloodbath for both of them. I imagined all of the different ways that they could be killed, and smirked to myself. Then there was a girl in a white shirt who looked like she was hyperventilating. Maybe just past the bloodbath for her. Next, the oldest, the eighteen year old. She seemed like she could be a real competitor.

"Virus Mackinaw, our first male tribute!" Pixie announced. I sighed, and started moving towards the stage.

Looked like she would be my competitor.

* * *

 ** _Tomas Spark, age 16_**

 ** _District 5 Male_**

* * *

There was already one boy picked. That lowered my chances by going into the Games by a slight percentage. Of course, that was including the fact that I had no tesserae, and that several boys might have taken it out, perhaps many times. That certainly helped my odds of being reaped. And the more boys who were selected meant that everybody's odds were decreasing.

It was simple.

Of course, I wasn't worried about being reaped. I should have been, but I knew there were other people who were more likely than I was to be reaped. What was there to worry about? A lot, actually. If I was picked, there was no way I would win. I had zero training, and Five was an urban district. There was no way to learn anything about edible plants or plants that could heal, or anything about plants in general. Maybe that was why we only had three victors.

And besides, I couldn't think about the Games. I had my own dreams for the future in Five. Since my family was higher class than most of the district, we could afford to send me to an advanced school where I could pursue my dream of becoming an engineer. My older brother, Tyler, was in the training program to become an engineer now that he was nineteen, free from the reaping. All businesses were always hesitant to take anybody still eligible for the reaping because what would happen if they were picked? Business would suffer, that's what.

As Pixie swirled the slips in the bowl with her hand, trying to create suspense, I glanced back to look for my younger sister, Penny. She had just turned thirteen, so this was her second reaping. She had always been terrified of the Games, and I guessed my way of telling her that she would be fine didn't help. All I had said was that everybody's chances were higher, but she would be fine because she only had two papers, but the first couple drawings were when she should be nervous. In retrospect, I supposed it wasn't the best thing to say. Oops.

Pixie yanked her hand out of the bowl, a folded piece of paper in hand. She walked back to the microphone, unfolded the paper, and called out the name, "Tomas Spark!" Instinctively, I looked around, seeking out whoever it was, before realizing it was _me_. Fear set in, and, in a daze, I walked into the aisle.

I never would be an engineer.

* * *

 ** _Preston Gibbs, age 13_**

 ** _District 5 Male_**

* * *

I dragged the toe of my shoe lightly across a puddle, watching the water dance. The cobblestones were easier to look at than people. People were intimidating. Cobblestones always looked the same. People were always different.

I knew one of the girls on stage. Elena. We were in the same year at school. I felt bad for her, being so young in the Games. She was nice to me, and I liked her. But she was nice to everybody. And I didn't like her in _that_ way. Besides, I had Sunny for my friend. Only one friend was good enough for me. As long as they were loyal and didn't tell anybody else anything about me, I was fine with it.

Nobody knew why I was so quiet. The only people I _really_ talked to were Sunny and my adoptive mom, Alexa. My real mom was reaped and killed in the 137th Games, after giving birth to me at sixteen. I liked to think that Alexa was my real mom. It made my life much more enjoyable. I didn't have to think about all the crazy stuff that happened before I was born.

I glanced up towards the stage, to see what was happening, then dropped my gaze. Too many people. The urge to slip away flickered up, but I forced it down. You didn't just run during the reaping. The Peacekeepers would be all over you.

The sound of Pixie's high heels clicking against the stage let me know that she was picking a third name. Another child to die. Alexa always told me that she adopted me because I seemed so small and helpless. I was only three at the time. Her words floated to me as Pixie walked back across the stage, a death certificate in her gloved hand. I looked up long enough to see her unfold the paper and read, "Preston Gibbs!"

It didn't take long for the tears to start. I began moving through the crowd of thirteen year olds. I cried. It wasn't my best moment. My eyes locked on the ground, I walked to the stage. Mounting the steps, I realized everybody was watching me. Quickly, I tried to stop the tears, and it half worked.

All I could think was I'd die, just like my mom.

* * *

 ** _Issac Tate, age 16_**

 ** _District 5 Male_**

* * *

I watched, fascinated, as a worm inched its way through a crack in the ground, into a puddle. Why did worms always find a way to the surface whenever the ground was wet? How did they know? Was the dirt where the worm lived mud now? So many questions, and I wanted the answers. Questions and answers were what I thrived on, all day, everyday.

Sometimes, I only had myself for company. Actually, it was a lot more than sometimes. It was everyday. My parents worked long hours in a power plant, and my brother was thirty, and had been out of the house for a long time. To keep from losing my mind, I had resorted to just generally wondering about things, wondering why something was a certain way, what would happen if I did something different to a plant or anything like that. That hobby soon blossomed into a full-fledged personality trait.

I didn't mind much. People had never talked to me before, but now, I was even more difficult to understand as a person. Not everybody questioned everything like I did. Not even my own family understood me, but then again, I barely saw them. The only person who I really clicked with was my uncle Watt, but he had been dead for years.

Pixie picked a fourth slip, and I couldn't help but think about what would the Games be like if there were no Careers? if there was a different way of picked the tributes instead of the reaping? If all the districts took pride in the Games like One, Two, and Four? How different would everything be? All of the districts would have a fair shot at winning. Everything would be equal.

If only that was actually true.

"Alright," Pixie said, unfolding the piece of paper. "The fourth male tribute is Issac Tate!"

Why was it my name that was chosen? What had I done to deserve this fate?

* * *

 ** _Joshua Lazer, age 16_**

 ** _District 5 Male_**

* * *

I still couldn't believe that Destiny was reaped. My crush, the one girl I liked, was being sent off to die, and we hadn't even had a conversation yet! And, well okay, she barely knew who I was. We had one class together, but in her eyes, I was still the new kid, the boy who just came to the rich school and stared at her from across the classroom. Eventually I would work up the courage to talk to her.

In like a billion years, probably. Then I'd be ready.

Why was it so difficult to talk to girls? Some boys had no trouble doing it. Others struggled endlessly. I was one that struggled. If there was a secret to doing it, I would like to know it. Maybe some of my friends knew it. And I had plenty of friends.

That's the thing. Some kids at school are either swarmed by people of the same gender or of the opposite. Talking with boys came easy to me. Even though I was the new kid, I wasn't an outcast. I had plenty of good, loyal friends. Not everybody could say the same.

"Hey, Joshua," my friend Matt said to me. He was seventeen, so he was in the group in front of me, but we were still standing together. "If you get picked with Destiny, how many nights before the Games will you two make out?"

I gave him a dirty look. "Like that's ever gonna happen," I muttered. But the very thought left me shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable. Sure, I may have thought about that once or twice, but hearing it from Matt just made it weird. But I knew he was just joking around. Most of what he did was a joke, or a prank, or something that just made the atmosphere better to be in.

"The fifth male tribute is Joshua Lazer!" Pixie called, dragging my attention to the stage. Me? Nervous butterflies fluttered in my stomach, but I forced a small smile as I walked up to the stage, my eyes locked on Destiny.

If I was going to die, at least I was going to die with her.

* * *

 ** _Matt Woper, age 17_**

 _ **District**_ _5 Male_

* * *

I didn't actualy think that he would be reaped. I was just making a joke! I was only trying to lighten the mood! Oh my god, what if I jinxed him by asking that? Great. I just ruined my friend's life.

Okay, maybe I was overreacting. But nobody liked watching a friend fight in the Games. It was difficult. Personally, I hadn't had to deal with something like that, but I knew a few people who lost siblings to the Games. It must have been awful.

Pixie congratulated Joshua on stage, but I could tell he was completely out of it. He was distracted. And, to be honest, so was I. Without Joshua to talk to, I wasn't sure what to do. Sure, I could talk to the other boys around me, but nobody understood my humor like my friends did. So I bit my lip, looking around awkwardly.

What would I do if Joshua died?

 _Stop it._

Instead of dwelling on my emotions, I pictured Joshua's face after I asked him about him and Destiny. The thought that might actually happen now made me smile. I laughed quietly, and one kid looked at me strangely. I trained my eyes on the ground, trying not to smile again. I must have looked insane.

Pixie picked the last slip, and walked back to the microphone. By this point, everybody was soaked to the bone, cold, and miserable. Pixie must not have thought her first reaping would be like this. Quickly, she unfolded the paper and said, "The final male tribute is Matt Woper!"

 _Oh cool, it's not me. It's some kid named Matt Woper. Wait a second..._ That was me. For a second, I couldn't move from my shock. When I finally stepped into the aisle, I couldn't help but wonder what the outcome of these Game would be. After all, I was going in with my best friend and the girl he liked.

None of the possible outcomes looks good for me.

* * *

 **And there were the males for District Five! I hope you all liked them! Thanks to:**

 **BabyRue11 for Virus,**

 **The AmazingJAJ for Tomas,**

 **66samvr for Preston,**

 **Foxfaceisthebest for Issac,**

 **and gameshungerplayer for Joshua and Matt.**

 **I hope I did them all justice. Today's song is When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars. Also, if some of you were wondering, Preston's POV was supposed to have all those short little sentences.**

 **I'm so hype right now. Can't wait for the Super Bowl later today. Go Pats! Also, if you haven't voted in the poll yet, please do so. Currently, there is a four-way tie between tributes, so if more people vote, maybe there won't be?**

 **One more thing. Etherealepiphany has a really promising looking SYOT and there are a few more open spots. If you want to submit any tributes, definitely check that out! See you next Sunday in District Six! We're reaching our halfway mark soon!**

 **-D9T**


	16. District Six Reaping: Females

**_Rora Caribe, age 18_**

 ** _District 6 Female_**

* * *

Being near all these Peacekeepers was making me uncomfortable. As I nervously glanced around, I couldn't help but wonder if one of them knew about me, paranoia building. Drug dealing is a dangerous business, even in District Six, where doing drugs was common. But it was worth it, at least for me. I've made a lot of money in that business.

As the mayor, our escort, Sicily, and our two victors, Siona Gyre and Bennett Hyundai, took the stage, I ran my fingertips over my hair, and cursed under my breath when I saw the shimmering black liquid. The ink I used to dye my vibrant red hair black hadn't quite dried yet. Hair dying was a tedious process; it had to be done in small parts at a time. Dark hair was much better for waiting in dark alleys. Even if you wore something that was the slightest bit bright, you never know who could see you, what could happen...

 _Stop it. You'll think yourself to death._

I knew I was overthinking it, but being a drug dealer came with the risks. My own parents didn't even know I sold drugs to people because I didn't want them to get in trouble because of me. They didn't deserve the treatment I was giving them, but it was for their own safety. And survival. Their jobs in the factories could only get a family so much with the little pay.

Sicily tapped on the microphone, sending a burst of feedback though the speakers. She blushed furiously, and quickly grabbed the microphone, trying to cover up her mistake with a breathy laugh. "Sorry!" she said, still blushing. "Why, that was embarrassing!" Another laugh. "Let's...chose our female tributes, okay?"

She wobbled over to the girl's reaping bowl, obviously not used to wearing the huge high heels she was in. She chose a slip, and walked precariously over to the microphone. "The first female tribute is Miss Rora Caribe!"

I froze in place, my heart beating out of my chest. Me? Why me? As I stepped out of the eighteen year old section, questions swam in my head. How would my parents get money? Would all the money I got from drug dealing be enough for them? I knew that even if I won, my clients would be upset, because I have left them hanging on the abyss of withdrawal. Why was I reaped?

* * *

 ** _Riley Glass, age 17_**

 ** _District 6 Female_**

* * *

I was barely paying attention to the reaping. How could I? Neither of my parents were here at the reaping, my mother bedridden and unable to speak because of some illness, and my father was with her, struggling to break out of his depression. It had been this way for about two months now, and everybody knew about it. Girls around me gave me sympathetic looks, but nobody ever offered to do anything to help. Most people didn't know what to do, how to deal with it.

Most people in this district aren't exactly "people persons." They're either thieves, or street rats, or druggies looking for another hit. Not me. Talking to people is my favorite thing to do. I could sit around and just have a meaningful conversation with somebody.

And the conversation didn't even have to be meaningful. It could just be gibberish, and I'd be content.

As I watched Sicily make her way across the stage again, I thought about my parents at home. My poor mother, who couldn't even say good morning to her children anymore because of her illness. She used to be bright and full of life. Even though it was only a few months ago, it felt like she's been immobile for years. I longed for her disease to be cured, even though I knew that, even if there was a cure, it would be too expensive for my family to afford.

 _That's it._

The sudden realization almost made me smile. I could volunteer. The victor always gets boatloads of money. I could save my mom and that would help my dad. My eyes searched for my older brother, Tom. How would be react? Probably not well. But that didn't matter.

So when Sicily unfolded the slip, I raised my hand and screamed, "I volunteer" before she could even read the name. I ran out of my section, and heard my brother yelling for me. Tom ran out of his own section, and collided with me.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, as the Peacekeepers started to take him back to his section.

"Saving our parents."

* * *

 ** _Bonnet "Nettie" Preacher, age 16_**

 ** _District 6 Female_**

* * *

The girl who just volunteered had a father who was in the depths of depression and a dying mother. That's probably why she volunteered. Her father was one of the regulars at The Broken Rail, the pub where I worked and lived with my little brother Braker. There was always a...varied assortment of customers who went to The Broken Rail. Rich and poor, male and female, addicts and survivors. Everybody.

I liked to think my mother went there before she had an affair with my father and Braker was born. My first few years were the best. It was just me, my mom, and my dad. We had a nice house, and we had money. There were countless weekends spent in Six's one park, and my parents actually got along. It was fantastic.

But everything went downhill from there. A strange man started coming over, and mother would yell at me. I remembered being scared because my mother never rose her voice with me. There would be creaks from my parents' room, and I would just hug my knees on my own bed, terrified at what was happening. When my dad found out - a little after Braker was born - he left, and the money started going, too. Then one morning, my mother didn't wake up. For months, Braker and I lived on the streets, until I found The Broken Rail and convinced the owner to let us stay there. We've lived there ever since, and I worked as a waitress.

I bounced a little on the balls of my feet. Sometimes, people mistook my jittery behavior as endless energy. The truth was that I was always nervous. Nervous of the reaping, nervous of being near people, nervous of starvation. I was so lost in thought, I bumped into another girl.

"Sorry," I muttered, and she wheeled on me, taking in my stick thin frame, pale skin, and greasy, matted hair. She turned away, a look of situation on her face. I knew what she was thinking, though. She thought I was a freak. Everybody does.

Sicily unfolded a third slip of paper. I stood, silent, waiting for the name, praying it wasn't me. "Bonnet Preacher!" Sicily called out.

There's something that happens when something happens that you don't want to. Natural human instinct sent out signals that caused panic. That panic overwhelmed me as I began moving through the sixteen year old section, all the girls parting around me, but I kept my face emotionless. I didn't want to appear weak to the other tributes.

I'd been the weak one my whole life. Time for a change.

* * *

 ** _Tessa "Tess" Lua, age 12_**

 ** _District 6 Female_**

* * *

Until last year, I had never understood why the people chosen to go to the Capitol were scared. I had always thought that they were special because they were picked to travel to the Capitol. My parents reinforced that idea in my mind.

That was my downfall.

For the first eleven years of my life, I never understood the Hunger Games. I never knew why the kids who went to the Capitol never came back. Why there were bouts of grief in the district. Why when Bennett Hyundai came back, there was a surge of food and happiness. I would ask my parents, but they wouldn't tell me anything until my eleventh birthday. They told me everything, and it terrified me.

The Capitol wouldn't kill district kids, would they? I didn't believe it. I refused to. But that accusation came true when I watched a rerun of the previous Games. Nightmares plagued me after watching that. What would happen if I was reaped? Visions of myself dying in the Games would keep me up at night. It was terrible.

Now, as I watched Sicily pick a fourth slip, my anxiety rose even more than normal. Chewing on my fingernails, I felt fear begin to prickle my stomach. What if it was me? It couldn't be. I only had one piece of paper in there. I would be fine.

 _Please not me. Please not me. Please, please please. I'll do anything._

"The fourth female tribute is Miss Tessa Lua!" Sicily said. Pure terror swept over me, and I screamed as loud as I possibly could. I ran out of my section towards the outer perimeter, looking for my parents. When I found them, my mother was sobbing, reaching for me as I ran to her. My dad was yelling for a volunteer, begging for somebody to save me.

Somebody put their hand on my shoulder. I screamed even louder as the Peacekeeper started to drag me towards the stage, towards my inevitable death. I struggled and cried and screamed for them to let go, but it was no use. Once they pulled me up the steps, one of the Peacekeepers stood behind me, holding my arms so that I couldn't run.

My worst nightmare was coming true.

* * *

 ** _Kailina Strom, age 17_**

 ** _District 6 Female_**

* * *

I hated the reaping. Absolutely despised it. The little girl Bawling her eyes out on the stage was a perfect example of why I _should_ hate it. It was terrible. That little girl was only twelve. There was no way she could survive the Games. Yes, the reaping was a hated time for me.

But not Lilith. She loved it, every bit of it. The girl in my head who was my complete opposite and ruined my life. She was a ruthless bully, but the only person who would speak with me. In everybody else's eyes, I was a freak, a devil spawn, when I really wasn't. And eventually, my parents believed it too.

There had always been whispering about the Strom girl, who claimed there was somebody in her head. Always. And because I was an only child, it just made matters worse. There were no siblings for me to hide behind, nobody but Lilith. My own parents neglected me, feeding me stale bread and water and giving me clothes that were too small. Life was awful, but I kept on living, hoping that somebody would see me for who I really am.

It hasn't happened yet.

 _It never will, you stupid girl. Who would want to be friends with you?_

"Stop, Lilith," I muttered, and a few kids near me gave me strange looks. I smiled, trying to look apologetic. They looked away, and one of them dropped something - a silver bracelet. Immediately, I stooped down, picked it up, and handed it back to her.

 _What are you doing? She was ungrateful a few minutes ago. Why are you helping her?_ I ignored Lilith the best I could.

I watched Sicily wobble over to the girl's reaping bowl and choose a fifth slip. Desire to help her walk in her heels flickered inside me, and I tried to dampen it. Lilith had told me hundreds of times: the Capitol wasn't worth sympathy. Nobody was. But I didn't believe that.

"Miss Kailina Strom, the fifth female tribute! Where are you?" Sicily asked, and I froze. The Games? I couldn't survive the Games!

 _This is will be fun! So many kids to kill, so much blood to be shed. Why are you scared?_ Oh, if only you understood, Lilith.

* * *

 ** _Roterra Quinn, age 16_**

 ** _District 6 Female_**

* * *

Blending into a crowd was what I did best. I knew I wasn't anything special, and I was okay with that. In fact, more than okay. Not everybody could stand out.

My mother always told me that even when life seemed bad, it could always get better. It was easy for her. She was a morphling addict for the first six years of my life, a very violent one, too. She would yell and get upset when she didn't get her morphling. The only reason she started rehab as one night she stabbed my father and he was still willing to help her. She changed completely, and now runs a diner out of our home.

My mother was such a success. I've seen customers come to the diner who have just given up, who are waiting for death to end their suffering. The thought that that could have happened to my mom scared me. She was so strong. I could never do anything like that. There was no way.

"I can't wait until this is over," my friend Sylvia whispered to me. I turned to her, a smile on my face.

"Me neither," I replied. "But there's only one more girl left. We should be fine." And I believed it. I had to. The only way to keep from falling into the clutches of depression - especially in this district - was to remain hopeful. Sylvia gave me a small smile, not quite looking me in the eye.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, we'll be okay."

I nodded, and turned back to the stage. Sicily was back at the microphone, unfolding the final female slip. The excitement from the conversation I'd just had faded away, nervousness replacing it. I had only taken out one tesserae. My odds were better than most other girls. I took a deep breath.

"Our final female tribute is Miss Roterra Quinn!" Sicily called. Sylvia went slack next to me, and I felt the breath catch in my throat. Then something else. As I started to go towards the aisle, the taste of bile filled my mouth. I pursed my lips, forced myself to swallow the vomit.

The walk to the stage seemed like an eternity. I knew there was no way I could win. But I had to try. People did insane things all the time. My mother went from an addict to a successful business owner. If she could do that, why couldn't I win the Games?

* * *

 **Hope you guys enjoyed that chapter. I struggled writing some of these characters, so I'm sorry if I messed your character up completely. Thanks to:**

 **SilverflowerxRavenpaw for Rora,**

 **CandleFire45 for Riley and Tess,**

 **maddyodair for Nettie,**

 **Fire'sCatching for Kailina,**

 **and HoppsHungerfan for Roterra.**

 **I hope I did them all justice! Chapter's song: New Romantics by Taylor Swift.**

 **New poll on favorite D4 tribute. Other than that, nothing new. Until next time!**


	17. District Six Reaping: Males

**TRIGGER WARNING: lots of these POVs discuss abuse. You have been warned.**

* * *

 ** _Remus O'Bannon, age 18_**

 ** _District 6 Male_**

* * *

Not very many people liked me. I had no idea why, though. I was perfect! Okay, maybe once or twice I had laid the details of my luxurious life on a little to thick, but that wasn't my fault. I had simply gotten taken away. There was nothing wrong with that, right?

I ran my fingers through my brown hair that I loved so much. Not only was it luscious and impeccable, but it just made me all the more attractive. It was just fabulous! I was good-looking, I had enough food to survive, _and_ I was athletic. What's not to love? Nothing. It was a simple fact. Some people just didn't see that.

Some boy was giving me weird looks, but looking away every time I glanced in his direction. He _certainly_ wasn't anything special. With the stick-thin frame, sloppy hair, and sunken face, he looked like he was going to drop dead any minute. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I turned on the boy and whisper-shouted at him, "What do you want, freak? Huh?"

The boy backed up a little, a frightened look in his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered. His sight settled on my stomach, which wasn't small and shriveled like his. "I..I just haven't seen somebody who didn't look hungry for a long time."

I laughed, and, on stage, Sicily looked at me funny. "Of course you haven't!" I said. "You live in the alleys, don't you? Ha! _I_ live in a nice home, _with_ enough to survive. But that's too bad for you!" I looked back at the stage without checking the boy's reaction. Sicily had an unfolded slip in her hands.

"The first male tribute is Mister Remus O'Bannon!" she announced cheerfully. What? Was that me? Surprise washed over me in waves, and I tried to remain emotionless as I headed up towards the stage.

Why was I reaped?

* * *

 ** _Axel Booker, age 13_**

 ** _District 6 Male_**

* * *

I stood awkwardly in the corner of my section, my hands folded in front of me, biting my bottom lip. Being near people made me uncomfortable. All people, except for my older sister, Jessica. She was the only person who really cared for me. My mother died two days after I was born, and father has spent my whole life in a bottle. I guessed that made me slightly uncomfortable around people I didn't know.

Sometimes, I wished I knew my mom. Jessica always said she was a very sweet, kind woman, even during dark times. She sounded amazing. Much better than my father. To be honest, I'm not even sure he knew my name. He's been depressed my entire life, and he rarely acknowledged anybody.

Just watching the reaping made me nervous. Especially this one. There were so many kids picked this year, and so rarely did any of them some back. Just the mere thought that I could be up on stage with those kids left be shaking in my shoes. There was no way I would be able to survive the Hunger Games. The anxiety that rose at the fact at the fact that I was in contention to be a tribute made me panic. Then I took a deep breath. No freak-outs. Not this year. I forced myself to look back at the stage.

Sicily was at the boy's reaping bowl, swirling the slips around for extra dramatic effect, before abruptly pulling her hand out, a piece of paper in hand. My chest heaved from fear. Even if I had any courage to do anything, the sight of the perfect square paper in Sicily's hand made me terrified. If it was me...

 _Don't do that to yourself, Axel._

Sicily walked back to the microphone; the sound of the paper being unfolded echoing across the dead-silent square. She cleared her throat and read, "Axel Booker!"

I froze in place, trembling. As slow as possible, I started walking through my section, overcome with fear. Tears streamed down my face as I hit the center aisle. I was going to die.

* * *

 ** _Toomin Sindig, age 12_**

 ** _District 6 Male_**

* * *

Why did the Capitol do this to young kids? Why were they forced to compete in the Games? It was crazy. Only one really young kid had ever won the Games: Clementine Niagara from District Eleven, who won when she was thirteen. But she was lucky. Most of the Careers in her Games had died early on. Or so I heard. Kids in the Children's Home enjoyed making up stories to trick some of the younger ones.

I'd lived in the Children's Home for my whole life. At least, I don't remember living anywhere else. It's pretty cool there. It's better than the community home. We get enough to eat, clean clothes, a place to sleep. Honestly, I thought it was better than the rest of the district. It probably was, too.

I lifted up a small portion of my shirt, and rubbed the blanket I had underneath. It was my good luck charm, and the same blanket I was dropped off at the Children's Home in. I usually kept it under my shirt, tucked into the pants so that it wrapped around me. It probably wasn't the best idea for the middle of summer, but I felt like I needed my charm for today. Your first reaping is always the hardest. That was the saying all around Panem. Everybody took it as a fact, so I figured I should, too.

But shouldn't the last reaping be the hardest? During the first one, you had the least chance of being picked. The last one was when you had your name in the most. So why was the first one the most difficult? Was it because of the nerves? Or was it the paranoia? Maybe it was because of the newness of it all. I didn't know.

"The third male representing District Six is Toomin Sindig!" Sicily said. My hand fell to my side, tears pooling in my eyes. They came loose and I couldn't hold them back. I stood in my section, crying, until the Peackeepers came to get me. It didn't take very much. I was a wreck, and I couldn't fight Peacekeepers. They brought me to the stage, and the whole time I wondered, again, why young kids had to compete in the Games.

 _So much for a good luck charm.  
_

* * *

 _ **Henry Sorens, age 13**  
_

 _ **District 6 Male**_

* * *

Even during terrible times, you just had to smile. There's no choice. While the food ran out, I smiled. As my father, high on morphling, raised his belt for another lash, I smiled. While life tried to beat me down, I struggled to climb back up, a fake smile on my face.

Because that's what you have to do when life beats you up.

Other people who knew about my situation at home pitied me. They thought I was strange for always trying to look on the positive side of life. How could I? I wasn't anything special. My parents had told me to build on that angle, use other people's sympathy as a resource to gain a status in this district. My two siblings did the exact same thing. Cater, my older brother, could use his wits to get himself a good job someday, and my older sister, Tracet, should be with other disabled children, because she was a born mute. Not attacked and abused every single day of her life.

Another question I'm asked a lot was why I stayed with my parents. They were horrible people, so why didn't my siblings and I just leave? The answer was simple: it was only place we knew. It may have been an awful place, but at least there, we knew where we stood. The streets of District Six weren't safe for anybody, especially not three malnourished children.

As Sicily clipped her way over to the boy's reaping bowl for the next name, I forced myself to smile. It probably wasn't the time or place, but when was it ever? Sicily selected a slip, walked back to the microphone, and read the name, "Henry Sorens."

My smile died. Before I knew it, my body lurched with sobs, but I didn't move. I was going to stay in this spot for as long as possible. I wasn't going to go until I had to. But I knew I couldn't stay for long. Eventually, the Peacekeepers would find me. They would take me to the stage. And I would be in the Hunger Games.

I hoped Tracet and Cater weren't hurt too much while I was gone.

* * *

 ** _Cooper Crosses, age 16_**

 ** _District 6 Male_**

* * *

Riley volunteered. Why would she do that? She actually had something to live for, a loving family that didn't hurt her. She actually had friends, an older brother. She had everything I didn't have.

But I wasn't jealous. Not at all. How could I be jealous of the girl I liked?

She was so nice. I saw her everywhere, ever since the day she saved me from the bullies making fun of me for my parents and the bruises on my face. She was everywhere, and she was about to die. Just like Ryan. I couldn't lose anybody else close to me.

My brother was eighteen when he was reaped and killed in the Games. He was the only person whom I completely trusted. We even had a plan to escape the district together, to get away from our parents who worked us to death. Everything was perfect. We were going to leave after the reaping.

But Ryan never came back.

I lived a sad, lonely life, in constant fear of my abusive parents and bullies at school. It wasn't a way anybody should live.

Sicily was at the microphone, and unfolded the fifth slip of paper. "Okay, the fifth male tribute is Cooper Crosses!"

As soon as I heard my name, Ryan's reaping replayed in my head, how he walked up to the stage confidently. I tried to mimick that appearance, but I knew it was hopeless. I was a nervous wreck. And that showed on my face. There was no way I was going to win.

But at least I would get to spend time with Riley before I died.

* * *

 ** _Martin Roger, age 15_**

 ** _District 6 Male_**

* * *

This was _so_ boring. The reaping always took forever, but this year, it was even longer. In the time it would take for this to finish, I could have done so much. Run a few laps around the community home, crush some little kid's hopes and dreams, get into trouble with the headmaster. There was so much to do and so little time to do it.

There really was no logic to my bullying. Maybe it was my parents' fault, even though they had disappeared thirteen years ago. Maybe that was why I was so bitter. But it was fun. People had said I was annoying and I knew I was. It didn't bother me.

To help myself pass the time, I thought of this morning, when I'd told a little nine year old girl she was never going to leave the orphanage. "Why would anybody want you?" I had snarled, and her face fell, eras building in her eyes. "To them, you're still a street rat, who'll die in her own time." After she ran away, I had smiled.

There was endless fun in this, even though other people thought you were a horrible person afterwards. But, like I said earlier, I didn't care.

I watched remorselessly as Sicily dug her hand in the boy's bowl for the final name. She held one up, and called out the name, "Martin Roger!"

"Shit!" I yelled. I was reaped? No, I couldn't be! The other kids started cheering, and I felt my face get red. I spun around, screaming, "Screw you! Screw you all! I'll come back, you watch me!" This made the Peacekeepers much easier to find me. They grabbed my arms and dragged me to the stage. I was too busy trying to get my anger under controlll to fight them.

The Games were the perfect place to intimidate others. Maybe I would do better than I thought.

* * *

 **This chapter was a lot harder to write than I initially thought. Sorry to these tributes' submitters if I ruined them. Thanks** **to:**

 **Foxfaceisthebest for Remus,**

 **CandleFire45 for Axel, Cooper and Martin,**

 **SparkALeah for Toomin,**

 **and HoppsHungerfan for Henry.**

 **I hope I did them all justice. Chapter's song: Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran (it's honestly so depressing, if you can get through it without crying, you have no soul.)**

 **A few announcements. First, the D4 poll is still up. Go vote if you haven;t already!**

 **Secondly, to the guest who as been commenting about Luna Blackburn. Fanfiction is a plac for writers of all ages and capabilities to share there work, including their characters. Just because you don't know somebody on this website doesn't make it okay to make fun of them. Everybody here should be accepting and supportive of one another. I may have been unwillingly (and unknowingly) helping this bad behavior by accepting these guest reviews, and I know that's a mistake on my behalf. But they need to stop. To Luna's submitter, Fire'sCatching, I'm deeply sorry if these omens have, in any way, hurt you. If you don't want to participate or review anymore, I understand. This is partly my fault.**

 **So there's my speech for the day. Be nice to one another. Please. With that, I'll see you all next time in District Seven!**

 **-D9T**


	18. District Seven Reaping: Females

**_Hazel Elm, age 13_**

 ** _District 7 Female_**

* * *

For once, my mood wasn't shifting as I watched the reaping crew walk onto stage: our escort, Eltheia, the mayor, and the victors. It was just a reminder that the reaping for the giant Quell was today. Twelve kids were about to be sentenced to their death.

My leg bounced from nervous energy. I knew it was stupid - everybody gets nervous during the reaping - but I couldn't help it. Having already gotten through my first reaping, I knew firsthand how anxiety-rising this was, amplified six times because of the twist.

I could hear the twelve year olds behind me, some of them whimpering and crying. I wanted to comfort them _so badly,_ but I couldn't. Eltheia was at the microphone, beginning her spiel.

"Hello, District Seven!" she called enthusiastically. There was no response, and Eltheia cleared her throat and presented the video like she did every year. That helped to calm me down. A normal routine was good. But once it ended, the anxiety returned.

"Alright, now lets chose your tributes!" Eltheia trilled. "As always, ladies first." She sashayed over to the girl's reaping ball, and grabbed a slip from the very bottom.

"Here we are," Eltheia said. "The first female tribute is Miss Hazel Elm!"

My breath caught in my throat. This wasn't happening. This was a nightmare, right? I was scaring myself, right? My parents couldn't lose me. Not after losing Spruce when she was so young.

The Peacekeeper's hands on my shoulders made me panic. I couldn't go! I wasn't going to survive! But the Peacekeepers didn't care. They guided me to the stage, while I was sobbing.

I was going to the Capitol, a tribute for District Seven.

* * *

 ** _Luciana "Lucky" Brown, age 18_**

 ** _District 7 Female_**

* * *

I was still sore from last night. My arms ached and I could barely lift them. Maybe taking the dare to see just how much I could lift wasn't a smart idea, especially considering how much I'd had to drink last night. That tree trunk _was_ pretty heavy, but I got it off the ground.

To my girlfriend, Gaia, my drinking was an issue. I didn't know why. She would always tell me I was an alcoholic, but I wasn't. I only had the occasional drink here and there, okay? Not enough to be considered an alcoholic. I wished she could be standing here with me right now. But she's nineteen. Gaia's finally safe from the reaping, so all I have to do is get out, and we'll be set to live the rest of our lives together.

But, of course, I had my family to think about.

It's not like I was their main source of food and income. Everybody in my family took out one tesserae, while they were still eligible for the Games. My oldest sister, Tansy, was twenty so she couldn't take any out. But the rest of us did. Me, Bruce, Spring, even little Oaken. But we did what we had to get by.

As Eltheia chose the second name, I thought about last night. There was always an annual party for the eighteen year olds to have good luck in the reaping, but also to have an amazing final night in the district if you were reaped. I did so much crazy stuff...to pass up a dare was like a sin to me. It was just something I had to do.

"The second female tribute is Luciana Brown!" Eltheia called. A large rock fell into my gut, and my stomach clenched around it. Blinking back tears from pure terror, I forced a smile. As I walked out of the eighteen year old section, I started waving at the cameras, trying to make a good impression to the Capitol. I mounted the steps and took my place as tribute next to the other girl. Looking out into the crowd, I found every single one of my siblings in their reaping pens, then Tansy and my parents in the perimeter. Then Gaia. She looked absolutely heartbroken, and that look almost made me cry. I didn't want her to be like that.

Eltheia quickly chose another slip, and unfolded it. The name nearly caused me to pass out.

* * *

 _ **Spring Brown, age 14**_

 _ **District 7 Female**_

* * *

The reaping was boring. There was so much more to watch besides a bunch of kids being picked to go die. My head whipped up, a fast flash catching my eye. _Whoa, it's a bird!_ That was cool. It flew by so quickly... _That cloud looks like a fork._

I gazed past the heads of everybody else and into the forest. District Seven was the best! There were so many trees to climb, it was all pretty in the fall when the leaves changed, and there were lots of places to explore in the woods. It was so fun. I asked Lucky if I could go with her to the party last night, but she said no. And I asked her why I couldn't go. And she said...I can't remember. Too many little details. I probably wasn't listening after she said _no_.

Somebody put their hand on my shoulder, stopping me from bouncing on the balls of my feet anymore. It was my friend, Amarielle, who was always the calmer one in our friendship. Honestly, I didn't understand how she could be so calm all the time, without any energy or anything. It was... _She has something on her face. Wow, her hair is smooth. I wonder if she'll let me touch it._

"Hey, calm down," Amarielle said. "That can wait until after the reaping, right?" I just nodded eagerly, starting to space out again, when I noticed Amarielle's face was white, whiter than the snow that comes in the winter during blizzards. She was staring at me in horror. I frowned. "What?

It was then somebody grabbed me, and that somebody was not Amarielle. What was going on?

"Will Miss Spring Brown please come to the stage?" Eltheia asked, and the realization hit me. I was reaped. Tears poured out of my eyes; sobs shook my body. When I looked up at the stage, I cried harder. Going into the Games was bad enough.

Going in with your older sister was a million times worse.

* * *

 ** _Maple Setvkins, age 18_**

 ** _District 7 Female_**

* * *

I knew I should have cared. Those two girls who were reaped were sisters! But I couldn't bring myself to pity them, even as I watched them embrace each other on stage, the younger one sobbing. Even I could see that, despite being almost a foot shorter than everyone around me. If it wasn't helping my family get money and a home, frankly, I didn't care.

My family and I worked at the lumber yards, like a majority of the district. What was unique - or, well, _miserable_ \- about our situation was that we didn't have a home to return to after a hard day's work. We either slept in the yard or out on the streets. The only bright spot was that I was so small - barely five feet - people thought I was younger and they took pity on me. They would give me food scraps and things like that.

My parents always told me not to worry, so I never did. I trusted that they would fix it.

That was six years ago. They never did.

I craned my neck to get a better view of the stage, all of the jokes people could have made at my expense swirling in my mind. There was the classic "How's the weather down there?" Or "Hey, can you help me fix my collar? Oh wait, you can't reach." The possibilities were endless. I cracked jokes all the time, but hearing ones at my expense was different.

The sound of Eltheia clipping across the stage filled my ears, then the slight ruffle of papers as she picked a piece. She strutted back to the microphone, and I just barely saw her unfolding the slip. "The fourth female tribute is Miss Maple Setvkins!"

Immediately, I put a mask over my face, washing it with emotionlessness. It felt like my intestines were reconfiguring themselves into different swirls, while ants marched up my back. Not the Games. Anything but that. Let me live on the streets the rest of my life, or work in the yard until my fingers snapped off.

Anything but being a tribute.

* * *

 ** _Ava Burnham, age 16_**

 ** _District 7 Female_**

* * *

"So then I said 'Better safe than sorry, am I right?'" I whispered to the girl next to me, smiling. She sighed, looking exasperated and annoyed, but I took another breath to continue my story. "Then Rowan took _my_ sandwich and took a bite! Then..." I babbled on and on, retelling the entire affair to the girl, who still looked annoyed. She gave me a look of pure annoyance and I paused mid-sentence.

"What?" I hissed, ready to defend whatever I had said. She simply put a fighter to her lips and looked back to the stage. A wave of anger washed over me.

"Fine," I whispered. Then I sighed. The only person who ever listened to my stories and actually had a conversation with me was my older brother, Bark. But he died a few years ago, after a tree fell on him. Well, he wasn't the only one. I had my friends, Rowan and Leaf, and they put up with me. They genuinely enjoyed my company, unlike my mother. She was rude, and even though she tried to tone it down, she never did with me. Sometimes, I wondered what my father ever saw in her.

I combed my fingers through my brown hair, smoothing it out as Eltheia plucked another slip out of the bowl. She crossed back to the microphone, and unfolded the paper. Eltheia cleared her throat and called out the name, "Ava Burnham!"

Instinctively, I looked around, searching for the girl who's name was called. Where was she? What was her name... Ava Burnham? _Ava Burnham._ Oh, no. Please no. My eyes burned, and I blinked back tears. My body shook as I stepped into the aisle, almost falling from my jittery legs. I furiously wiped my eyes, not wanting to cry.

I climbed the steps, and took my place next to the rest of the girls. Fifth girl reaped - I had almost made it. Almost survived another year. But the unreal numbers in this Quell didn't spare anybody. Two sisters, a little girl, and me.

All subjected to die in a few weeks' time.

* * *

 ** _Willow Kandle, age 12_**

 ** _District 7 Female_**

* * *

I picked another string off of my dress. Just the fact that the fabric wasn't perfect black gave me anxiety. It neeed to be neat and clean and - was that a piece of lint? I quickly brushed it off.

If something wasn't perfect, I fixed it. It was as simple as that.

After I finally finished plucking all of the flaws from my dress, I rolled my eyes and looked at the girl next to me, who I recognized as Drea Leifs, the granddaughter of Mimosa Oakley. I smiled at her. "The reaping sure is terrible, huh?" I said, loud enough for several girls around me to hear. Drea gasped, looking horrified at my boldness. So did all of the other girls.

"What?" I said.

"Don't insult the Capitol at it's prime power showing," Drea whispered. "It'll get you in trouble." I smirked.

"I'm not scared of the Capitol," I said, all of the other girls paling and turning away. They just didn't understand. The Capitol was just a big city flexing it's muscles trying to scare the districts. They got my sister, Lily, under their grasp, but not me. Maybe that's why I was so bold and standoffish all the time.

Eltheia selected the final slip, then crossed back to the microphone. I watched as she unfolded the slip, and Drea glanced timidly at me. "The final female tribute is Miss Willow Kandle!"

I'm going to die.

* * *

 **I know this update is a week late. I'm sorry, but last week I just didn't have a writing drive and Fanfiction was being weird. But, here are the District Seven females! Thanks to:**

 **Foxfaceisthebest for Hazel,**

 **SparkALeah for Lucky and Spring,**

 **Fire'sCatching for Maple and Willow,**

 **and BabyRue11 for Ava.**

 **I hope I did them all justice! This chapter's song: This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things by Taylor Swift.**

 **I posted the D5 poll a few days ago, so go vote if you haven't already. Again, sorry to keep you all waiting. Next chapter, we'll get to meet the males for District Seven. Until then!**

 **-D9T**


	19. District Seven Reaping: Males

_**Daniel Lyons, age 18**_

 _ **District 7 Male**_

* * *

My last year. I could barely believe that this was the final time I would be standing in these pens, waiting to hear the name called and praying that it wasn't mine. If I had survived all six years before this one, I could make it through. And even if I was reaped, I could make it through the Games. You just had to believe, and work hard.

There was a saying that my father told me right before my first reaping. As I stood, terrified, about to enter the reaping pen for the first time, he said to me, "Nothing worth having comes easy. If you're picked, remember that. Having a life to live if something you should fight more, Daniel." That stuck with me, and sport of became my motto. _Nothing worth having came easy._ Good grades, a good job, money, food on the table - it was hard work. But I knew that I could achieve all of this. It wasn't an unrealistic goal, not an impossible one, but rather one that only the elite could get to.

I was one of the elite. One that persevered instead of giving up.

My eyes sought out small details to keep me busy. I studied the girls on stage, trying to read their strengths and weaknesses. One of the sisters, the younger one, Spring, was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her head whipping back and forth. She had tons of energy, probably ADHD. That could help keep her alive from the speed in her brain, but against a Career, she may be doomed. And Ava was biting her lip, her eyes filled with desire. What's the one thing people do when they're not supposed to? Talk. She was definitely a people person.

I watched Eltheia walk to the opposite side of the stage this time, and pick a slip from the boy's reaping bowl. She strutted her way back to the microphone, and unfolded the paper. "The first male tribute is Mister Daniel Lyons! Where are you, Daniel!"

 _Nothing worth having came easy._

My life flashed before my eyes. I saw myself graduating, marrying a beautiful woman, working in the lumber yards, growing old, and peacefully dying. There was no happy ending to my story now. I pursed my lips, and headed up to the stage. If nothing worth having came easy, then I was going to fight out there. Fight and work hard simply to live.

* * *

 ** _Grover Rowan, age 14_**

 _ **District 7 Male**_

* * *

A boy next to me dropped something. Instantaneously, I stooped down, and picked it up; an old, dull coin, cold to the touch. I flashed a huge smile, and handed it back to him. "There go you!" I said cheerfully. The boy smiled dryly at me, then quickly turned away. I frowned. What did I do wrong? All I did was give him back something he dropped.

A slight bark caught my ear, and I craned my neck, hoping to see my dog, Charlie. Charlie had been my best friend every since I found him in an alley walking home from school. My parents were never really on board with the idea of having a dog, but they eventually grew to love him like I do. I wish I could say the same for my brother, Nairn.

Nairn was a slacker. There was no better way to say it. He always found excuses to skip work, rarely did well in school - but I didn't do much better - and preferred spending time with his friends and countless girlfriends as opposed to his family. My parents always told me that I would understand why Nairn was like that in a few years, but I didn't believe them. I would never be like Nairn! And, besides, no matter how many times he told me he hated me, I knew it was just sibling rivalry.

"Hey, Grover." Somebody elbowed me in the side, and I looked up. "Want to come with us to the yards after this? We're gonna celebrate." I grinned, overjoyed.

"Of course!" I said excitedly. "Consider me there already." A smile still on my face, I bounced my foot up and down, waiting for Eltheia to read the next name. She flitted her way back to the microphone, a piece of paper in her hands. She unfolded it, and read, "The next male tribute is Grover Rowan!"

 _No._ My heart stopped, and the world started to spin. There was a loud scream piercing the air - Narin. I barely noticed. Somebody was dragging me away from my happy life, and shoving me into a secluded cage of death and suffering. A sob escaped my throat and the Peacekeepers wrapped their hands around my arms and dragged me to the stage.

The cage of death.

* * *

 ** _Thatch Rolland, age 17_**

 ** _District 7 Male_**

* * *

I studied all of the tributes on stage, trying to figure out the facets of each of their personalities. Nobody appeared the way they really were, especially during the reaping. Nothing was ever how it looked on the outside. Like my younger brother, Jack. He seemed like just a loud, obnoxious kid on the outside, but he really was considerate and kind. Or my friend Carter. He seemed respectable, but nobody would expect him to be doing drugs in the forests.

With me.

The only reason for it was pure boredom. Working in the lumber yards late at night or early in the morning can get boring. The only available resource to spice things up was the weed that grew in the fields. Carter, Jack, and I would smoke day in and out, trying not to be caught be the Peacekeepers or the older workers.

But going behind the backs of the Peacekeepers made me feel bad most of the time. They were only in the district to make sure nobody broke any laws, and I respected that. They were superior to everybody else, even the mayor, who was the most powerful district citizen. I was polite to them, and thought that everybody else should be polite to them, too.

I watched Eltheia as she daintly placed her hand into all of the slips, swirled them around, before coming back up with one in her hand. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes. _Be a good example._ If I showed everybody that I wasn't scared, then maybe they wouldn't be nervous. People tended to look up to me as a leader, and leaders needed to set the standards.

"Thatch Rolland, our next male tribute!" Eltheia called, and my eyes shot open. A tremor passed through my entire body before I accepted the fact that it was my name. I've seen tributes try to run, to escape their fate, but it never worked. You just needed to accept that your name was called. And besides, with so many tributes, my chance of being chosen was much higher.

I made my way up to the stage, trying harder than ever to pick apart the other tributes' personalities. Nothing may be as it seemed, but soon enough, everything would be revealed. I would make sure of it.

* * *

 ** _Jackson "Jack" Grover, age 16_**

 ** _District 7 Male_**

* * *

I stood at the edge of Barker's group of friends, trying my hardest to reach my brother. To them, I was just Jack, just Barker Grover's twin brother who nobody needed. Maybe it was my temper, or my control freak attitude. Maybe it was because I wasn't as popular as my brother, or as smart, or as _perfect._ I tried hard to fit in with Barker and his friends, but they all had something that I couldn't click with. It was unbearable.

Carefully, I planned out my route to Barker. Even if I didn't always get along with him, he _still_ was my brother: somebody to look up to, and somebody to make me feel better about myself during the reaping. Then, as meticulously as I'd planned it, I began my slow and steady journey to my brother.

Losing family was one thing that I wish I had control over. If it was up to me, my little sister, Linda, would still be here. She died at such a young age; she was only two when her brain cancer finally took over. Her death had made me realize that, no matter how irritating, family was important. Not as important as _Barker_ may seem to others, but still important.

I bumped into somebody. The boy turned to face me, looking annoyed. He shoved me, and said, "Beat it, Jack. No one wants you here."

I felt my face heat up, and slowly, my hands curled into fists. I shoved the boy back. "You get the hell out of here," I spat. "No one likes you anyways. Go die." With that, I pushed past him, now fueled by anger rather than my earlier stealth.

The clicking of Eltheia's heels against the wood stage filled my ears when I finally saw Barker. I just opened my mouth to say something to him when I heard, "The fourth male tribute is Jackson Grover!"

Immediately, my head whipped to face the stage. I bit the inside of my cheek as I wiped my face clean of emotion. Trudging into the aisle, I bit my cheek harder, struggling to keep my straight face. Despite the fear and rage boiling in my gut, I couldn't help but think that my family was going to lose another child.

* * *

 ** _Arlo Beamer, age 16_**

 ** _District 7 Male_**

* * *

Some people near me were joking around and mocking everybody on stage. It took every ounce of my willpower not to verbally rip them to shreds. How could they be so rude and disrespectful _today_ of all days? There was nothing funny about these people being sent off to die. But I was seen by all of these boys as the nice, rich boy. I didn't want to ruin that image.

I knew that I was lucky that so many people liked me. Seven wasn't the poorest district by a long shot, but we still had our fair share of poverty-stricken citizens. The wealth that my family came from may have inspired jealousy from others, but I was always honest and a generally good person to try and let others see more than just money when they saw me. After lots of work, it finally paid off.

But I still had to work in the yards, just not as much as others. I worked half of the time that everybody else in the district did, and rarely was it any of the brute force work. My job was to stack logs, or sweep up wood chips, or organize the rack of axes at the end of the day. That was where I met my friend Laya. She's special, to say the least. There was too much you could say to her that would hurt her, but she was normally comfortable near me.

"Hey, Arlo," one of the boys said to me. I smiled at him, showing him to continue. "Are you working tonight?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I have log duty, then I have to fix up the axes. Why?"

"Just wondering," he said with a vicious smirk. I looked away, heart racing. What was that look for? Was it something I did? I thought that I was well liked!

"Arlo Beamer, the next male tribute!" Eltheia announced, and my heart froze. Looked like I wouldn't find out what was going to happen.

Ever.

* * *

 ** _Aspen Birch, age 16_**

 ** _District 7 Male_**

* * *

I stood in the far corner of the reaping pen, away from everybody, practicing my punches. My clenched fist flew through the air, the exertion of doing it for so long causing cold sweat to break out on my neck and forehead. There was a fight at one of the district's fight club tonight, and one of the competitors was yours truly. And I needed to get in as much practice as I could, because tonight I was going up against The Toppler, one of the best fighters in all of Seven.

"What are you doing?" An arrogant voice crept into my ears, distracting me from my training. I looked up to see a smug looking boy with his arms crossed staring directly at me. Several comments ran through my head - from a feeble "sorry" to a sarcastic "fist fighting the air" - but I eventually settled on the truth: "I'm practicing for a fight."

The boy burst out laughing. "Who, you?" he exclaimed, doubled over. "Why would a goody two shoes like _you_ fight anybody? Did they not do their homework?" I squeezed my fists tighter, trying to control my anger. Huffing, I turned back to the stage, but the boy wasn't finished yet.

"What, you can't take it, _fighter_?" He said the word mockingly, like it was something he couldn't wait to get rid of. "Hey, isn't your mom that stripper? Who's your dad, huh? The Head Peacekeeper?" I ground my teeth, hurt by the words. It was true, my mom was a stripper, a very popular one at that. But I didn't know who my dad was. My mom never told me. She thought it was better that way. But still, the truth was painful sometimes.

Eltheia dipped her hand into the glass bowl and fished out the last name. The entire crowd went silent, the boys praying it wasn't them, families hoping that their child was safe for another year. I wondered if my mother was hoping that I was safe, but quickly dismissed the thought. She abandoned my years ago. Why would she care now?

"The final male tribute is Aspen Birch!" Eltheia said excitedly. before they had the chance to escape, I briskly wiped the heel of my hand against my eyes, stopping any tears. I knew I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. Hearing your name for a death match isn't the best feeling in the world.

* * *

 **Wow, this chapter took forever to get out. Just a shade over three weeks. Sorry guys. I'm not discontinuing this, but I have reasons for this wait, which I'll explain below. But thanks to:**

 **Candlefire45 for Daniel,**

 **Fluffytail15 for Grover,**

 **platypus27 for Thatch and Arlo,**

 **Foxfaceisthebest for Jack,**

 **and The Fire Blossom for Aspen.**

 **I hope I did them all justice! This chapter's song is No Excuses by Meghan Trainor.**

 **Alright, now on this chapter. A lot has happened in these weeks between updates. First off, I had a bout of everybody's favorite writer-ly self doubt, and I didn't even look at this doc for days. Then when I finally did, I read it and what I read was mostly trash, so in my destructive mindset, I deleted all of what I had and rewrote this. I still don't think it's my best work, but it's all I could manage to get out. Next, school has been pretty insane lately, with tons of projects and tests determining my class placement for next year (which gave me the worst anxiety ever) so I haven't just had the time to write. And what little time there was, I put it towards working on an outline for a novel I'm going to write. So, sorry guys, for the wait. I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner. Until then!**

 **-D9T**


	20. District Eight Reapings: Females

**_Twyla Silverstein, age 17_**

 ** _District 8 Female_**

* * *

Some people still remembered me as the eccentric seven year old Twyla, the girl who socialized and smiled and was actually happy. That girl was missed by many. Sometimes I missed her, but she died with her parents in a fire ten years ago. There have been days where I wished for this young, innocent girl to come back to life, days where I grieve the loss of such a girl.

Today was not one of those days.

I watched, cold and calculating, as Eight's escort, Xerxes, took the stage. My upper lip curled at his hideously bright outfit: the neon green button down shirt, with the bright orange suspenders and black and white checkered pants...it was enough to make any self-respecting person want to kill themselves if they were caught in that. I knew that I certainly would.

As I listened to the other girls my age babble on and on about boys, or the latest school scandal, or that they couldn't wait to be free from the reaping, I couldn't help but think, _If I had lived a normal life, would I end up like them?_ Would I be worried if a boy liked me or if I was the next target in a blackmailing spree? The only life I ever knew was one on the streets, scavenging for food in trash cans, sleeping in alleys and constantly looking dirty. Would I be pretty and polished like these girls, or would I still be grungy and unkempt?

Humans were dangerous creatures. They took from everything and returned nothing.

On stage, Xerxes gave his speech, played the video, then practically screamed into the microphone, "Let's chose our female tributes!" He flashed a smile like he expected us to cheer. Like he wanted us to celebrate the death call of these children.

Thoroughly disappointed in our reaction, Xerxes stomped to the girls' ball and ripped the first paper out, muttering under his breath. He opened the slip and called out, "Miss Twyla Silverstein, please come to the stage."

My eyes narrowed towards the stage. Me? Reaped? I simply shrugged and started working my way to the center aisle. I knew I was going to die, what was the point in crying over it?

* * *

 ** _Sloane Flyme, age 12_**

 ** _District 8 Female_**

* * *

 _Back straight. Head up, eyes down. Small smile._ My mother's instructions replayed again and again in my head. It simply was not proper for a young lady to draw attention to herself, that's what she always told me. Better to slip unseen into the background than stand out and cause problems. Her teachings were invaluable to me; I lived, thrived, even, off of what she said. The same was not said for my sister, Brinley.

According to Mother, Brinley was a "foolish hooligan." Brinley always told her that she'd much rather get caught in the machinery in the factories than be a shadow to some man. I knew for certain she did not mean it. She just doesn't see the value in Mother's teachings like I do. Neither did our father, who left us when I was young. Mother told me that he didn't understand us women, that was why he left. Brinley always told me that our father did not want his daughters to be nobodies. What ever that means.

 _Back straight._ I fixed my posture the second I felt it fall. To give myself something to do, I smoothed out the front of my dark blue dress, and I let my eyes flit up for a moment. I saw Brinley standing in the fourteen year old section, whispering and laughing with her friends. My gaze fixed back on the cobblestones. Several times, my sister had tried to make me break free from the mold Mother had forced us into, to join her. Then there was Mother, who was as strict as she could be, telling me to keep my back straight and to not eat in large bites. There was Brinley and there was Mother, then me in the middle, being pulled in both directions.

They are both appealing. I was not sure which one I wanted.

Xerxes angrily plucked another slip from the bowl, and, against my will, I thought, _Why is he still so upset?_ I could practically hear Mother scolding me. Young ladies were not to think for themselves. It was up to the men to do the speaking _and_ thinking. I had always wondered why.

"The second female tribute to represent District Eight is Miss Sloane Flyme!" Xerxes announced with false enthusiasm.

 _Sloane, a lady is not supposed to show her emotions._ I put a serene smile on my face and quietly stepped through my section, tears prickling my eyes and blurring my vision. I blinked them away as fast as I could. A young lady may not be able to _show_ emotions, but that didn't mean that the fear blossoming in the stomach was not real.

* * *

 ** _Angele Maurois, age 15_**

 ** _District 8 Female_**

* * *

I slowly closed my eyes, once again sending my soul to the place it could be carefree. Peaceful. At ease. I wish my body could go to that place with my spirit. The reaping was always such a terrible time. So much fear and anguish. Everybody needed something to brighten up the mood. Everybody else needed their own happy place to visit, if only for a few minutes.

When I returned, I plucked the dainty white flower from my blonde hair and twirled it in my fingers. Everything found in nature was just beautiful, with all of the graceful swoops of the shapes of flower petals to the golden hues the sky takes when the sun begins its descent. It's so majestic, like a painting from the Capitol's best artist (only better).

I carefully place the flower back behind my ear and smile. With the sun shining on my shoulders, a light breeze filling the summer air...it really does feel like a holiday. Of course, I would never admit that aloud. The reaping isn't something to celebrate, at least while it's happening. Later today, after the twelve tributes have been shipped off to the Capitol, the remaining citizens of the district will celebrate to ending of the reaping, to celebrate that their sons and daughters and brothers and sisters are safe for another year. There will be music and laughter and happiness and everybody will enjoy everybody else's company.

Why must such a happy moment come after so much evil?

Xerxes beamed at the crowd, gesturing to the two tribute girls. He must have gotten over his little funk. But Xerxes was like that sometimes. If things didn't go exactly his way during the reaping, he would be mad at us for the rest of it. Sometimes, I wished that I could help him find his peaceful valley, his place to go when he was angry or nervous or sad.

"Two great girls so far, District Eight!" he said. "Let's see if the next one will be like these two!" The people around muttered unhappily at that while Xerxes grabbed another slip. He opened it and called out, "Angele Maurois!"

My hands flew to my mouth as a gasped. I looked around, hoping somebody might volunteer, while tears filled my eyes. When the realization sunk in that I was on my own I slowly walked to the center aisle, sniffling.

Today wasn't a holiday at all. It was a predetermined funeral.

* * *

 ** _Tulle Stone, age 13_**

 ** _District 8 Female_**

* * *

 _He glanced over the cliff, weighing his options. To jump meant certain death. To face what was coming would mean a much more painful, long, bloody death. No matter what he did, he was going to die._ Writing always helped to calm me down, it didn't matter if it was in my head or on paper. It helped to block out thoughts of pain, sadness, the helplessness of just uselessly screaming for help as the person I once called a friend threatened to kill me if I didn't cooperate. My fingers traveled to my wrist, and I lined up the vein with my fingernail and... _With all of his goodbyes to his family, he turned his back to the cliff and let himself fall._

There were sometimes when I wished I could be like the boy in my story: ready to do anything, even die, to escape reality. The only person I trusted was my cat, Milky, who didn't even count as a person. People were just unreliable. Milky never told me I was stupid for trying to stop my suicidal thoughts. But that was only because she was a cat. Cats can't express emotions the way humans can - or use their voices.

Then I lost her, and guessed my heart never healed correctly from that. After all, I only trusted Milky.

It took all of my willpower not to recoil away from all of these people. Solitude was my refuge. It was where I could be myself without worrying about others judging me or making fun of me. Being out in public made me, well, uncomfortable. Especially considering that it was out in public where _the incident_ happened...

 _Stop it, Tulle. You're leaving again. Come back._

I took a shaky breath. My thumb drifted back to my wrist, but I stopped myself. I was only thirteen. How could my life have gone so horribly wrong in those years?

Xerxes marched over to the girls' bowl again and chose a fourth slip from inside. He crossed over to the microphone, opened the slip and called out the name, "Tulle Stone!"

 _No. Please no. Not me._ I stood in my section, tremors wracking my body. Fixing my life... that was the goal. Eventually, I wanted to fix my life and give myself a better one. There was no chance of that now.

Not even a little bit.

* * *

 ** _Circe Trendad, age 14_**

 ** _District 8 Female_**

* * *

"Really? Then what?" the girl I was standing with inquired, her eyes wide with anticipation. She looked relieved that I was talking to her, which normally wasn't the reaction I got when I started speaking. To most, I was the annoying, talkative girl who no one really liked. But if this girl seemed to enjoy my stories, then I would continue telling her.

"Okay, so then I hung up the quilt to dry, but my neighbor's cat tore it down and decided to sleep in it!" I exclaimed, and started laughing softly. The girl smiled, but her eyes were preoccupied. She still looked distracted. I pretended not to notice.

Now that I think of it, everybody seemed nervous and skitterish. They always did whenever the entire district got together like this, and Xerxes came and picked the names from the glass bowls. I had asked my parents why everybody was so scared, but they would never tell me. They would also never tell me what happened to Aura.

My older sister, who was going to have a baby then all of a sudden wasn't. Then she left. My parents would cry late at night, when they didn't think I would hear, but I _did_ hear. "Why are you crying?" I would ask them. "Where's Aura?" My mother would get angry and shoo me out of her bedroom whenever I came in asking.

All I knew was that Aura was gone. I didn't know where she was.

"But after _that_..." I started, but the girl wasn't listening anymore. She was focused back on the stage, where Xerxes was picking another slip from the bowl. I rolled my eyes. She had been doing this every time Xerxes went back to picking names. I just wanted to talk to her. Was that too much to ask?

"The fifth female tribute is Miss Circe Trendad!" Xerxes announced with a huge smile on his face. _Hey, that's me._

I walked out of my section briskly, not slowly like the other girls had. The entire way, questions spun through my brain. What exactly was the Hunger Games? Why were all of these girls so nervous? Why didn't any of the so called "tributes" from other years ever return? I guessed I was going to find out.

* * *

 ** _Amber Satin, age 18_**

 ** _District 8 Female_**

* * *

If only the Games were like a fairy tale. All of the female tributes would be rescued from the clutches of the dragon-like Capitol by the male tributes and everybody would go home together happily. If only it was this way. In fairy tales, the princesses and princes rarely died and they never slaughtered each other.

That was the blunt reality of the Games. Everybody died except for one scarred victor who was never really the same afterwards.

I craved the feeling of book pages between my fingers, the worn leather cover nestled in my palms. Reading usually helped to calm me down, especially after a long day. And because I was the weird nerdy girl nobody wanted to associate themselves with, I could read whenever I wanted to, because I didn't have to worry about having to go to a party or hanging out with friends on short notice. I could just immerse myself in a new reality.

Although it wasn't always better than my reality.

A seamstress was a pretty common job in District Eight; it was almost everybody's job once they were old enough to work. But they didn't work for Cassian Grid like I did. He was a terrible boss, who beat me and several others if we didn't do our job fast enough or well enough to whatever. He was just horrible. He was like the werewolf in the book I was currently reading, the one that always showed up whenever the protaganist was finally having a bit of good luck.

Xerxes walked over to the girls' reaping bowl. I felt a worm of dread begin to tunnel through my stomach. There was only one name left. The odds were completely in my favor. I hadn't been chosen the first five times. I would be fine this time. I had to believe.

"The sixth and final female tribute is Amber Satin!" Xerxes announced.

Well, that wasn't what I had planned.

* * *

 **Another three week gap between updates, alright. Going strong. This is more quality over quantity at this point. Anyways, thanks so much to:**

 **Fire'sCatching for Twyla, Tulle, Circe, and Amber,**

 **and EllaRoseEverdeen for Angele.**

 **(Sloane is my tribute, as I created her when I thought nobody would submit). I hope I did them justice! This chapter's suggestion is not a song, but a book. I'm not sure if you guys have heard of Jenna Moreci, but she's releasing a new book on the 24th and it's going to be amazing. According to the reviews, it's kind of like an Ancient Greek/Roman Hunger Games kind of thing. It's called _The Savior's Champion_ , so check it out!**

 **Yeah, sorry for my brief pauses between updates. I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. Hope to see you all much sooner.**

 **-D9T**


	21. Just A Quick Update

**Hey guys. I'm sure you're probably wondering "Hey, D9T, where's the update?" And I know it's been a WHILE since I last updated, but I promise you guys, I am not discontinuing this. Life has just been crazy busy ever since I last updated (which was April vacation...my schedule has been insane for _that_ long). School has been brutal, and the softball season has started up. Late April until early August is basically softball season for me since I play in the summer league as well. **

**But don't worry, I'm not going to just not update until August. I just wanted to let you guys know where I've been. Like I said, school has also been absolutely crazy, too. Because it's almost the end of the year, so the teacher just want to jam everything in. I have a huge research project that I'm working on now, and have had some state-wide tests over the past few weeks (I have one next week, too) as well as the Spanish final in June. But I'm trying my hardest to get the next chapter done, I just have no idea when it will actually be out.**

 **Here are all of the things I have over the course of the next few months, just to give you guys a heads-up, so I don't have to do another one of these "chapters":**

 **-research project late May**

 **-state test sometime next week**

 **-Spanish final sometime in June**

 **-school trip to Washington DC (no wifi)**

 **-softball tournament June 22-24**

 **-and a vacation in the middle of July that there also won't be any wifi**

 **And that's it. Sorry this has taken me so long. I just wanted to let you all know where I was. Hopefully, I'll get the District Eight males out soon!**

* * *

*NOT IMPORTANT STORY CONTENT*

 _ **Laurella Littleman, age 24**_

 _ **Master of Ceremonies**_

Being pregnant is hard. Carrying a baby around for nine months is hard work, and nobody can tell you otherwise. But at least you get an excuse to eat a lot of food.

* * *

 **Now you can't tell me this doesn't have any content. Hope to see you all soon!**

 **-D9T**


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